I Don't Have the Heart
by Lehua
Summary: A BV fic based on the song by James Ingram.
1. Chapter 1

I Don't Have the Heart

By: Lehua

Disclaimer: DBZ is not mine, so these characters are not mine.

Vegeta walked down to the kitchen to eat his breakfast and then train. He had a nice schedule going: he woke up early—enough so the woman was still asleep or out—to eat breakfast; trained; took lunch later than the woman did; trained; and came in late enough to make dinner and sleep, the woman usually being occupied in her lab or out with her dumb boyfriend. His only true interaction with the woman usually involved him demanding that she fix his machine so he could train harder, which was often, but lately she'd been smart, having spares stored in capsules so there would be no down time and he wouldn't have to chew her a new asshole. So, he was surprised when he found her sitting at the kitchen table with coffee already in her hands. How had he not noticed that she was here before he arrived? He should have been able to detect her before he had even gotten to the kitchen. _I must be getting lax in my security; I need to train harder,_ he thought as he entered the kitchen.

He walked to the fridge and began his morning ritual of making his breakfast. During the whole process of making and eating it he was acutely aware that she neither said anything nor looked at him. _Something's up,_ he thought,_ but she's not making any obvious signs for me to figure it out. She's not yelling at me, or crying over that bastard, so what the hell is wrong with her?_ As he was finishing up the last of his breakfast she said, "it's over."

"What does that mean, woman?" he replied.

"Between me and Yamcha."

"Why should I care?" he said as he got up to put his dishes in the sink. "All that means to me is that you'll be around more often to fix your weak machine when it breaks." He walked out.

He waited to hear her yell at him as he left the room, but she didn't make a sound. In fact, she still hadn't looked at him. He was curious: what was so different about this break up that she didn't have her usual hysterics? She'd break up with that weakling, cry her eyes out, and then be going out with him again in a few days. What had happened that changed her usual pattern? He liked to be able to predict behavior, so that he wasn't surprised. That was one of his gifts, being able to predict everyone's behavior before they even did anything. But since he'd met Kakkarot he'd been having a difficult time predicting anyone's behavior. Was it because of Kakkarot or was it something about these people on this planet? He'd conquered hundreds of planets, subdued trillions of people, and yet something about this planet had him perplexed. He wanted to find out why this situation was different with Bulma, but he didn't want to show weakness for wanting to know, so he continued to the GR to train. He'd deal with it later.

Bulma sighed. She'd been in the lab for several hours and had gotten nothing done. This break up with Yamcha had been terrible, but they had both known it was coming. There was nothing inherently wrong with Yamcha—he was a wonderful man—but he wasn't making her happy anymore. He tried: he got a steady job, found a good place to live, bought her things that would make any other woman happy, but still it wasn't enough. She loved him, and he loved her, but it wasn't enough for her. And now it was over. For good. It was an amicable split, but it hurt, and she had no one to turn to. No, that wasn't true. She had Goku, he was always there for her when she needed him. Goku, her oldest friend and greatest ally.

Bulma found herself walking with Goku in the waning light of day in the field next to his house. Chichi was in the house trying to get Gohan to take a shower.

"So, what's up?" Goku asked.

Bulma stopped and stared into the surrounding forest. "It's over."

Goku bent toward her, placing a hand on her shoulder, "What's over?"

"Me and Yamcha."

Goku stood up and blinked. "Oh."

Bulma shot him a look. "What does that mean?"

"Oh, nothing, nothing," he said, backing away from her with a grin on his face.

"Don't say that. I know you. You know something I don't, don't you?" she said, her left hand on her hip and her right index finger shaking at him.

Goku scratched his head. "What makes you think that?"

"Goku, I expected sympathy out of you, and all I got was 'oh'—as if you knew something. Did he tell you?"

"Who tell me what?" Goku asked.

"Yamcha. Did he say anything to you?"

"No, of course not. I haven't seen Yamcha since I last saw you."

"Then who else could have told you. . . .Vegeta?"

Goku laughed.

"Yeah," Bulma giggled, "Vegeta coming all this way to tell you I broke up with me 'baka boyfriend' would be a little much." Bulma sat down in the grass and drew her knees to her chest. "So what was that 'oh' about? Did you think Yamcha and I weren't right for each other in the first place?"

Goku sat beside her, placing his arm around her shoulder. "You were pretty desperate back then; I mean, you were looking for the dragonballs so you could wish for a boyfriend, after all."

Bulma smiled and leaned against him. "We were so young back then."

"I like Yamcha: he's a nice guy. But I never thought he was the one for you. No offense to him, but he's not too bright."

_Look who's talking,_ she thought.

"I never thought he'd be able to compete with your intellect and wit, and I felt that you needed someone who was on the same level as you, not someone who wouldn't be able to defend himself if he got into a fight. I'm sure Yamcha tried hard, but he never would have been able to make you happy." Goku squeezed her. "You're a difficult woman to deal with, Bulma."

"And yet, you and I get along great," she said. "We should have gotten married."

Goku laughed. "I'm not even going to pretend like I'm not flattered, but I wouldn't have made you happy either. Of course, had you tricked me like Chichi did, I would have been happy to do it, but things didn't work out that way."

"Am I cursed? Will I be an Old Maid when I die?" she asked.

Goku paused. He didn't know what to tell her. Vegeta was her future, and Trunks when he was born, but he couldn't tell her that: he didn't want to throw off the timeline. Trunks had said to be careful. What could he say? "I doubt it. There must be someone who could handle you. Don't you know anyone who can match your wits?"

"Men are either too scared or too stupid to approach me. All I get from men who want me is 'hey babe' or 'whatever you want'—as long as I'm paying for it of course. Before Yamcha, they were all idiots, and the men I saw while Yamcha and I were 'broken up' were usually hoping I'd be their Suga Momma." She paused. "The only person who has any wits and can best me sometimes is Vegeta. But you and I know that Vegetable Head has no feelings for anyone." She nudged Goku in the ribs, expecting him so agree, but when he said nothing she began to wonder. "Right?"

Bulma sat up straight, Goku's arm falling from her shoulders to his side. "Vegeta has no heart. He proclaims it to me almost everyday that I see him." She stood up. "He's intent on destroying the Androids and killing you. It's all he ever talks about. Training, training, training. And he's always demanding that I serve him. Ha! He's the Prince of the Saiyans, which consists of you and him." She paced. "He never says 'please' or 'thank you' and I swear he picks fights with me just because he's bored sometimes. He's never shown any concern for me when I was upset, and he's always demanding, never asking."

"Bulma," he said, still seated on the ground, "you have to realize that all his life he's been pushed around, forced to serve under Frieza, who not only killed his parents but destroyed his planet as well. Then, I surpass him in power, a power he felt like was his birth right, taken away by a third-class nobody who didn't even know he was Saiyan until recently. And then Frieza killed him, and instead of ending his miserable life, he's brought back to earth by a wish on the dragonballs, with the knowledge that he wasn't strong enough in the end to kill Frieza. He has survived all these years by keeping everyone away and demanding service instead of asking. Fear and intimidation are his way of life. What can you expect from him when he gets care and kindness? He doesn't know how to react. He hasn't killed you, so he probably thinks that's enough to show his gratitude."

Bulma sat next him again. "I suppose."

"You have to cut him a little slack, but not that much. If there's anyone who can deal with him, it's you." Goku put his arm around her again and pulled her close. "You're one of the strongest people I know, next to Chichi, of course. I really don't know how she can deal with me and Gohan. We drive her nuts sometimes."

"Sometimes? Ha, try everyday. There's never a day when I call when you and Gohan aren't causing her grief."

"Goku! Bulma!" a voice called from the house. "It's time for dinner!"

They got up from the ground and walked to the house. "I'll have you know that she hasn't yelled at me all day today," Goku said.

A few mintues later. . . . "Goku! You tracked dirt into the house! How many times have a told you to wash your feet before you come into the house?"

Vegeta walked into the kitchen late that evening and found the woman shoving food into the fridge. She leaned against the door and sighed. "Had I known you were coming in I wouldn't have put the food away," she said.

"If you were around more often you would know when I come in," he retorted. He began to pull everything out of the fridge. "You were at Kakkarot's."

"How'd you know?" Bulma said, sitting down at the table.

Vetega pulled a plate out from the cupboard and considered if he should ask her if she wanted one: he was still curious about her mood this morning and figured offering her a plate would make her more susceptible to speaking, but then again, he didn't want to appear concerned. There was the possibility that she would talk about it without him doing or saying anything, but from her behavior this morning he wasn't too sure about that. "Would you like a plate?"

"No, I'm still stuffed. But thank you," she said.

He grunted and got to work eating. "I can smell him on you," he volunteered when she said nothing.

"What?" she asked.

"Kakkarot. I can smell him on you, which is how I can tell you went to see him."

"Oh, yeah. Your superior Saiyan senses; I forget about them sometimes. Yeah, I needed to talk to someone, about Yamcha."

He grunted.

"Goku wasn't surprised. In fact, he said he never thought it would workout. Wish he had said something earlier; would have saved me some heartache," she said.

"One of Kakkarot's enlightened moments."

"Why must you always make snide comments about him? He never says anything bad about you. In fact, he practically said I should chase after you now."

Vegeta almost choked on his food. He could tell the woman was watching him closely and he didn't want to give her any ideas. "I spoke too soon," he muttered.

"What?" she said, perking up in her seat.

"Nothing." He scowled.

"Did you say that you spoke to soon? Are you saying you would have me chase you rather than Yamcha?" She smiled.

Vegeta looked her. "I am a much better mate than that man could have ever been for you. I really don't know what you saw in that man in the first place." He quickly polished off the rest of his food and put his plate in the sink. This conversation had turned and he wasn't comfortable with it anymore. As he washed his hands he felt her come up behind him and snake her arms around his waist.

"Do you want me to chase you, Veg-Head?" she said

He jerked out of her embrace and stared at her. "I said no such thing woman. I don't need you or anyone else, and I suggest you stay away from me. I have no time for you and I have no time for your games. I need to become stronger, I need to defeat the Androids, and I need to kill Kakkarot. That is all I need and want." He turned on his heel and left the room.

Bulma pursued him. "Goku told me about you."

Vegeta stopped midway up the stairs. "Told you what?"

She paused, unsure of his tone. He was suddenly colder. "About how you had to put up walls to protect yourself. How you use fear and intimidation to get what you want. How you probably don't know how to react to someone who wants you, someone who could care for you."

He relaxed. She didn't know about what had happened on Namek. He turned to her, the darkness of the stairs enhancing his dark looks. "He's right: no one wanted me or cared for me. And I need no one to want or care for me. I am fine with my life right now. I don't need some woman clouding my judgment." He resumed his trek up the stairs.

"Have you ever wondered why Goku was stronger than you in every battle?" she said.

He paused again but said nothing.

She came up the stairs and stood close to him, not quite touching him. She leaned in and whispered, "it's because he has someone he needs to protect, because he wants and cares for someone who wants and cares for him back. Every major battle in his life he's always had a reason to fight. You fight because it's all you know how to do; you don't need a reason." She continued up the stairs and went to her room.

Was that Kakkarot's secret? Could it be that because he had someone to protect he was stronger? It made a sort of sense. He knew that in nature, animals would go to great lengths to protect their young. Was Kakkarot channeling his power from that basic instinct? No, it wasn't just that: Kakkarot trained hard to be a good fighter. But this instinct might be enough to push him over the edge.

The woman might be onto something.


	2. Chapter 2

I Don't Have the Heart

By: Lehua

Disclaimer: DBZ is not mine, so I don't own these characters.

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BOOM!

Bulma's eyes snapped open. What the hell? She scrambled out of bed and was outside in under a minute, looking at the wreckage. The GR had exploded again, but she couldn't see that idiot Saiyan hovering around anywhere. The dark night was devoid of moonlight and the only sounds breaking the silence was the sizzling of the GR as its circuits popped and the metal smoldered under the intense heat. "Vegeta?"

No response.

"Vegeta?"

No response.

"Vegeta!"

Bulma ran around the mass of burning metal, calling Vegeta's name. She grabbed the nearest hose and began to put out the flames. "Stupid Saiyan; you better be all right or I'm going to bring you back from the dead with the dragon balls and kill you myself again."

Once the fire was down, she began to pull at the debris, hoping to find any sign of a breathing Vegeta. The fire was beginning to catch again; she could feel the heat at her back as she dug deeper. _I'm going to have to go back and hose the metal again before I get burned._ As she was turning to go back to the hose, a sudden wind whipped the fire behind her into a frenzy and the heat threw her onto her back. She grunted in pain and got up, scrambling in the opposite direction of the firestorm, trying to get out of the path of destruction. She scrambled to the top of the heap and saw Vegeta pinned underneath everything, unconscious. _At least I know where he is now,_ she thought as she slid down to escape from the fire.

But as she was about the reach the edge of debris, the fire caught up and encircled all the wreckage. Bulma jumped and tumbled through the air, her clothes catching fire. She rolled when she hit the ground, which doused the flames, but she could feel pain where her skin had sustained burns. She ran to the hose and again calmed the fire.

She had almost cleared all the debris heaped on top of Vegeta when the fire picked up again. _This damn fire is persistent; I need to make a GR with flame resistant materials._ She turned to escape again, but found a wall of fire too deep for her to penetrate without sustaining some major burns. _Major burns or burned alive?_ She surveyed the fire and found a spot that didn't burn as brightly. She closed her eyes and jumped.

She screamed as she hit the ground; she wasn't on fire, but she might as well have been. The heat was awful. She pushed through the pain and again got the fire under control and pulled the rest of the wreckage off of the Saiyan Prince and dragged him away from harm.

"Vegeta?" she said. She felt his chest move underneath her hand. "Vegeta?"

He opened his eyes and sat up. "Woman, what the hell are you—?"

Bulma fainted.

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Vegeta surveyed the damage around him. The last thing he remembered was excitement as he pushed through his latest plateau of power and then nothing. He looked at the woman beside him and noticed her burns, some severe enough to send her into shock. _What had she been thinking? Doesn't she know a little fire isn't going to kill me? _he thought as he lifted her from the ground and carried her into the infirmary.

Vegeta had been in the infirmary enough times to know where everything was kept. The woman no longer staffed the infirmary because he had threatened the lives of everyone who worked there. He doubted she would have been able to find anyone who wanted to work there anyway, but this meant he would have to bandage her himself instead of passing her off to another human baka. He could take her to her parents complex, but then they would inquire as to why she was in such a state and he would feel obliged to answer; he may be a Saiyan Prince—someone who demands respect and never gives any—but even he knew who he had to thank for his current circumstances. Heartless, yes; honor-less, no.

Vegeta made careful work of stitching the woman up. The burns weren't severe enough that she would need to go to the 'hospital' and he knew she would be able to remove the scars later if there were any left after everything was healed. She never woke up once while he was tending to her, so he took the time to study her closely.

She came from a very weak species. Humans have no ki, and were unable to generate any focused-energy power as Saiyans were. Well, there were exceptions—like the Z team—but most were humans were dependent on technological means to advance themselves. She was a genius compared to every other human on this sorry planet, and perhaps compared to everyone he had ever known as well. What she lacked in ki power she more than made up for in strength of will, and proof of this covered some small parts of her body. She was weak in body but strong of will, an interesting combination. Most people he knew were strong of body but weak of will, like Zarbon and Nappa (_those idiots_). She had almost no way to defend herself against him, but he could always count on her to fight him. He supposed it was pride that made her so stubborn, which he could readily understand.

_She is beautiful._

His skin blanched and he was glad that she was not awake to see his discomfort. He left the infirmary and made his way to the kitchen, intent on eating something to escape from his weird, disembodies thoughts.

It's not as if he'd never seen a beautiful woman. During his travel's with the space lizard he had come across hundreds of beautiful woman, and had tasted more than a few. And he had admitted to himself when he had first seen the woman that she was beautiful; it was part of the reason he had accepted her offer of hospitality. It's not like he needed to be here to get stronger; he could have gotten stronger anywhere. But it was nice to be able to use her genius to speed up the process of gaining access to the power he knew was locked inside, and it was nice to see a beautiful woman every now and then, even if she was loud-mouthed and bossy.

He found himself walking back to infirmary after he had eaten with a cup of "broth": he knew humans were unable to digest "regular" food after being hurt. More than once she had tried to get him to drink broth after he had spent some down time in the infirmary. Saiyan's healed faster than humans, and good food was the key to good health. That didn't seem to be the case when it came to human: good food could make them sick during and after healing.

"Woman," he said, shaking her awake.

The woman's eyes fluttered open. "Vegeta," she said.

"Eat this," he said, pushing the mug into her hands.

She sat up, wincing from the pain, and drank the broth. She grimaced at the taste. "I hate this stuff."

"Then why do you always feel the need to shove it down my throat when I'm in here?" He sat down.

She shrugged. "That's what you're supposed to do. It's bad for your digestive track if you eat something hearty after you get hurt; usually you'll just throw it up later."

"I don't."

She sipped. "You're not human."

"Obviously."

She smiled and looked at her bandages. "Did you?" she motioned to them.

He nodded.

"Thank you, Vegeta." Silence. "Why?"

He arched an eyebrow at her. "Did you think I'd just leave you outside in your state?"

She shook her head: no. "You could have taken me to my parents or to the hospital."

"Then I would have had to explain to them what the hell had happened, and I wanted to avoid that," he said, standing up and taking the empty cup from her. "Your injuries are not severe; you'll be fine in a couple weeks."

He turned to leave.

CRASH!

He flew back to her. "What the hell are you trying to do?" he said as he picked her up from the floor and put her back on the bed.

"Trying to get to my room. I hate this place; it's so uncomfortable," she said between clenched teeth.

"Why didn't you ask me for help?" he said before he could stop himself.

"I—uh, I hadn't thought about it," she replied.

"Hold this," he said as he picked her up. She grabbed the cup and they left the infirmary.

After he made a quick stop into the kitchen, he placed her in her bed. He was again turned to leave but she stopped him again, this time with her voice.

"Thank you."

He looked at her one last time and bowed his head in her direction.

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Bulma sighed and carefully undressed herself. She didn't feel like getting up (_and I probably can't_, she thought), so she was just going to sleep in the nude. She'd deal with the problem of getting dressed in the morning.

She inspected her bandages. Vegeta certainly knew how to correctly bandage a wound. Her burns seemed to be cleansed correctly, and he had even taken time to put on burn ointment. She found no bandages on her face and was relieved: _at least I am not disfigured._ The burns didn't seem to be as bad as she thought they were going to be. She eased herself onto her back.

She should have realized that he would have been fine had she left him alone. He'd gotten into worse shape before. From what Krillin told her after he was first defeated by the Z team, he had been so bad off that even the slightest amount of killing force would have killed him. What made her think that the GR exploding would have any real effect on him? He had pretty much come from every other GR blow up with minimal damage. _But this time he wasn't demanding for it to be fixed when I got there. This time he had been unconscious and pinned beneath the debris._ Those were good reasons for her behavior, but even so, she should have known logically that he wouldn't have been burned badly because he was more resilient than humans. But she had instinctively tried to 'save' him from the burning wreckage; her nature had overpowered her logic and she had done something that would have been considered heroic to everyone else but Vegeta.

_But he didn't seem ungrateful._

No, in fact he hadn't called her stupid for trying to save him. He had been rather pleasant. And he had almost sounded concerned when she fell down—angrily concerned, but concerned nonetheless. Perhaps he wasn't as heartless as everyone—but Goku—made him out to be.

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Vegeta poked his head into Bulma's room. _She's still sleeping,_ he thought. He walked over to her sleeping form and placed a hand on her forehead; she didn't have a fever, so she hadn't caught an infection from her burns. He noticed her clothes pooled on the floor. _She sleeps naked._ He smirked. She was defenseless; all he had to do was lift the blankets and he would be able to see her in all her glory—_and glorious it would be_. He restrained himself and left her with her dignity.

He walked down to the kitchen and made his breakfast. What the hell was he going to do? As soon as she woke up she was going to need care. He wasn't in the mood to care for her, and he wasn't sure who he could coerce into caring for her. He needed to train, not be a nurse. _You know it's all your fault for getting into this situation,_ a small voice said. _If you had been more careful you wouldn't have blown up the GR and she wouldn't have tried to save you._ He hadn't asked to be saved. She should have known better. He could tell her mother, but that woman would drive him insane with her endless babbling, not to mention her insane idea of trying to 'hook them up.' And he wouldn't go to that worthless human being who used to be her boyfriend. The only other person he knew was Kakkarot, and while Kakkarot would be a lesser evil then the others, he didn't want Kakkarot to know how far he had come in his training. _But if you don't ask him you won't be able to train; besides, you could train with Kakkarot while he was here._

He smiled.


	3. Chapter 3

I Don't Have the Heart

By: Lehua

Disclaimer: DBZ is not mine, so I don't own these characters.

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Chapter 3

Bulma woke up stiff and sore. She threw the covers off and tried to stand.

"Good morning!"

"Ah!" she screamed and fell back into bed, covering herself.

Vegeta burst through the door, ready to pounce.

"Goku! Vegeta! What the hell are you two doing in my room?" she said.

Vegeta visibly relaxed after he realized nothing was going on. "I asked Kakkarot to watch you while I train."

"Why? I can take care of myself," she said to Vegeta's retreating form. She looked at Goku.

"Sorry," he said. "Vegeta did mention that you were naked. I guess I should have waited outside. I didn't think you'd just try to jump out of bed when you woke up." Goku scratched his head.

Bulma smiled. "Will you ever grow up?"

He laughed. "Would you like me to get you anything before I go?"

"Oh, you don't have to go," she said. "I shouldn't have screamed. I was startled."

Goku motioned to her. "You're still naked."

"Oh, yeah. Um, could you give me a pair of pants and shirt from the second drawer?" Goku handed her some clothes. "Thanks. If I need anything, I'll call," she said as he left the room.

Bulma took a moment to steady her nerves. Why had Vegeta called on Goku? He could have just as easily asked her mom to look after her. Vegeta went out of his way to ask Goku to take care of her. She was surprised he had thought ahead at all about her at all. _I guess he didn't want to be at my beck and call,_ she thought. Her mom would have driven him nuts, and he wouldn't stoop so low as to ask Yamcha. So, that left only Goku, and Goku wouldn't say no to a friend in need. Of course, Goku could have sent Chichi, but Vegeta could have possibly asked Goku to personally do it for him.

And the answer fell right out of the sky, perfectly wrapped up in logic. _If Goku cares for me, that means he'll be around. And if Vegeta wanted to train with someone, Goku would be close by, so they could train together._ Of course, Goku would be the most advantageous nurse: Vegeta could still train while Goku was caring for her, and Vegeta could train with Goku as well.

She smiled and made her way to the bathroom to freshen up for the day.

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Goku watched Bulma as she exited her room. She stumbled as she walked towards him, but she stopped him from helping her. "I'm fine." She hugged him. "Thanks for coming. I'm sure Vegeta told you he wanted you here to help me, but I'm sure he also wants you here so you can train with him."

Goku laughed. "He can't get anything passed you, can he?"

"Did he tell you he wanted you to train with him too?"

"He didn't have to," Goku said as he scooped her up into his arms and took her down to the kitchen. He placed her at the kitchen table. "What do you want to eat?" he said.

"Not lizards." She grinned.

He smiled. "I haven't eaten lizards since I got married to Chichi." He paused. "In fact, I haven't had to cook since I married Chichi, so I'm kinda rusty."

"You don't have to make me anything," Bulma said as she got up from the table. She carefully walked to the fridge and pulled out a yogurt smoothie. "I'll have this."

"That's all?" he said,

"All I need." She sat down again. "You don't need to be here with me, Goku. I can get around fine without help." She drank her breakfast.

He sat down. "Are you sure? You haven't tried the stairs yet."

"I can get a bot to do everything for me. I'm surprised Vegeta didn't think about using a bot himself, actually," she added.

Goku shrugged. "I'm here to help, and that's what I'm going to do."

"Well, you can help me to my lab," she said as she got up from her chair. "I need to make a new GR out of fire resistant material."

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Vegeta watched Goku as he helped Bulma to her lab. "Woman, I need a GR."

"I'll send Goku out with one," she said without even looking at him.

Goku came back with a capsule. Vegeta broke the capsule and out popped a new GR. "Are you supposed to go back to her?" he said.

"No, she said I could train with you if you wanted me to."

Vegeta and Goku entered the GR. "How can you take directions from her?" he asked as he programmed the GR. The gravity immediately started to change, making the surrounding area more oppressive.

"She's my friend, Vegeta. I listen to her because I like her," Goku said as he began warming up.

"I would never take direction from her."

"She doesn't intimidate you, so I don't see why you would," Goku replied.

"She said you told her about me." Vegeta looked at Goku from the corner of his eye.

Goku looked unperturbed. "If you're wondering if I told her about Namek, I didn't. I just said she needed to cut you some slack."

"What? Why would—"

"You're a difficult man to deal with Vegeta. All you do is demand, and she gets tired of it. I said she needs to cut you a _little_ slack—not let you run all over her." Goku began doing push ups.

Vegeta followed. "What does it matter to you if she gets tired of me?"

Goku continued doing push ups, but had nothing to say.

"Kakkarot," Vegeta said, standing up, "I asked you a question."

Goku stood up. "You have a good thing going here, Vegeta. I'm sure you know that. Do you know how many people on the Z team are jealous of you living here with her? I know Yamcha was pretty upset about it at first." Goku paused. He didn't know what to say and he wasn't sure if he should say anything; there's was that whole screwing up the timeline thing to think about. "Have you ever wondered why she asked you to stay with her?"

Vegeta said nothing. Of course he had wondered why. But it hadn't bothered him until Kakkarot had pointed it out. He had assumed it was some flaw in her character that caused her to ask him to stay with her; he had been told that she had a thing for bad boys, and he was the baddest anyone could get. Kakkarot seemed to know something that he didn't, and now he was beginning to wonder if she had said something to Kakkarot to make Kakkarot suspect that there was more going on than he had been led to believe.

"Did she say something to you?" Vegeta asked.

"No, no," Goku said, laughing. "Just speculating." Goku began to punch at the air furiously.

Vegeta watched him. _Kakkarot is defiantly hiding something from me._

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Vegeta and Goku exited the GR at lunch. Bulma had started walking toward the kitchen about five minutes earlier, but hadn't made it to the kitchen yet when they caught up with her.

"Bulma," Goku said as he picked her up, "why didn't you call me?"

Bulma grabbed onto Goku. "I figured I'd be able to make it to the kitchen without bothering you."

"I told you before I went to train that you were supposed to call me if you needed me," Goku said as he deposited her into a chair.

"And I didn't need you." Bulma settled into her chair. "Could you grab the one of the—"

"Sure," Goku said and tossed her a yogurt drink.

"Thanks." Bulma gulped it down.

Vegeta watched the total exchange with some discomfort. She didn't see Kakkarot often and yet Kakkarot knew more about her than he did—and he lived with her.

Goku pulled his lunch out of the fridge. "Chichi made me lunch. Do either of you want some?" he offered.

"No thanks," Bulma said.

Vegeta started pulling his lunch from the fridge. He made a heap of sandwiches and looked at the woman: she was staring at the table. He couldn't blame her: Kakkarot was making a mess with his lunch. "Woman, would you—" he began, but stopped when she looked at him.

"Hmm?"

He shoved a sandwich in her face.

She took it from him. "Thanks," she said, and began to eat.

Goku watched them as he ate his food. There was definitely tension between the two of them, but he wasn't sure if it was going to the way it was supposed to. There was still time before Trunks needed to be conceived, so he wasn't worried. He wasn't going to interfere. Goku finished his lunch and excused himself to go to the bathroom.

Vegeta watched the woman as she drew circles on the table with her index finger. "What have you been doing all morning?" he asked.

She perked up. Vegeta had made her a sandwich and he was interested in what she was doing; she should attempt to save his life more often. "I've been designing a new GR made from flame resistant materials."

"Really?" he said before he could stop himself. _Damnit, that's twice in 24 hours._

"Yeah, just in case there are anymore fiery explosions," she said. She smiled and he looked away from her.

Goku still hadn't returned.

Vegeta cleaned up the table, his plate and Goku's mess. "Do you need to go back to your lab?" he asked as he placed the dishes in the sink.

"No," she said, leaning back into her chair. "I'm done for now. I was thinking of watching you and Goku train—I haven't done that in a while."

"You've never watched me train," he said.

"I meant Goku: I haven't watched him train in a while," she said. "Are you going to be training in the GR or outside?"

"GR-"

"Let's train outside," Goku said as he came back into the room.

"Kakkarot-"

"We've been inside all day, Vegeta: we should get some air." Goku picked Bulma up. "Are you going to watch this time?" he asked as he carried her out of the kitchen.

"Yup."

"It's been awhile," Goku said.

"You live far away," Bulma replied.

Vegeta followed them outside. He was annoyed at them for ignoring him and being so comfortable with each other, and he was annoyed at himself for caring.

_You're jealous._

Ha, jealous: he had no reason to be jealous. If he was really jealous he would have killed that idiot Yamcha a long time ago since he had been the woman's boyfriend. There was no reason to be jealous of Kakkarot: he and the woman were friends and Kakkarot was 'married.'

_They have something that you want._

Why would he want to be comfortable and friendly with the woman? He didn't need anyone, didn't want anyone.

Goku placed Bulma on the ground and began to stretch.

Bulma watched them as they stretched and worked out. She had seen Goku many times but she had never watched Vegeta. _Why hadn't I watched him? It would be useful to know what his capabilities are so that I can build a more effective GR._ She watched both of them but watched Vegeta more closely.

Vegeta wasn't small; he was compact. He moved with the grace and fluidity of water. He used his fists more than energy attacks, but when he did use energy attacks he was focused. Fighting was like a dance for him, while for Goku it appeared to be fun. Goku was a good fighter, but Vegeta was brilliant in his moves, and yet Vegeta couldn't beat Goku. Vegeta was missing a vital component, and he didn't appear to know what it was. _He has nothing to fight for,_ she thought.

He wasn't beating Goku, just pushing him back. _Come on, Vegeta, just once._ But nothing he did appeared to have any effect on the bigger Saiyan.

_I wish Goku was a little weaker than Vegeta._

Bulma blinked. Where had that thought come from? Goku was her best friend, her oldest friend: why would she wish him ill? If Goku hadn't been stronger than Vegeta then the Earth would have been annihilated, not to mention the whole universe after Frieza had had his way with everything. Could it be that she felt sorry for Vegeta and his useless quest of becoming stronger than Goku? Bulma rubbed her temples.

Vegeta looked at the woman. What was wrong with her? She had been watching them intently, and now she appeared to be in pain. He was in top form today; she should be watching him. He flew down to her, surprising Goku.

"Vegeta, what-" Goku said, but stopped when he saw where Vegeta was going.

"Woman, what is wrong?" he said as he stood above her.

Bulma looked up at him. "Nothing," she said, trying to conceal her discomfort.

"Bulma, are you okay?" Goku said as he touched down next to her. He sat down and put his arm around her.

Bulma leaned against him in relief. He didn't know what she had been thinking and she would never tell him. How could she have been so hard on him? "I'm fine, Goku, just a little tired. I guess I'm still weak from the ordeal last night."

"Do you want to go back inside?" Goku asked.

"No, no. You guys finish up. I'll just lay back and rest."

"We're done," Vegeta said before she could lie down and he picked her up. "Go home, Kakkarot."

Bulma grabbed onto Vegeta, linking her fingers behind his neck. "Vegeta, really, you don't-"

"Enough, woman. You need rest."

Goku smiled. "Should I come back tomorrow?"

"No," both Vegeta and Bulma said.

Bulma looked at Vegeta, surprised. She still needed help, but she didn't want to inconvenience Goku any more than she had. Vegeta knew she wasn't well enough yet, but he still told Goku to go home and stay there. Was he going to care for her now?

Goku shrugged. "Okay. See you guys around then," and he flew off.

Vegeta carried her inside the house and up to her room. He placed her gently on the bed. "Do you need anything?"

"I think I can manage," she said, lying down.

He turned to go.

"You didn't have to stop training on the account of me," she said.

He turned around and leaned against the door way. "You are weak."

"That doesn't mean you needed to stop. I would have been just as fine lying on the grass as I am lying in bed," she said.

Vegeta looked at her.

She looked away, uncomfortable. Why was he looking at her like that?

"Did you clean your bandages?" he asked.

"No."

He left the room and came back with the first aid kit. He began to change and clean her wounds. She watched in silence as he tended to her gently. This was a whole new side of him that she had never seen before. She knew he was gentle—he had taken care of her last night—but she had never seen it first hand.

"Were you annoyed today?" she asked him.

"What do you mean?" he said as he attended her.

"By Goku?"

"I'm always annoyed by that idiot," he replied. "He makes everything look easy."

"He's almost always gotten his way as long as I have known him." 

Vegeta grunted.

Bulma wanted to reach him somehow. He seemed all alone. "I don't know why I never watched you train before; it would have helped a great deal when I had first developed the GR if I had known what you were capable of."

He said nothing.

"Goku makes fighting look like fun, but you make it look like art. You are quite . . . handsome when you train."

He arched an eyebrow at her. "Are you saying I'm not handsome every other part of the day?"

She balked.

He grinned at her.

"That's not what I meant. You're handsome all the time."

His grin widened.

Bulma shut her mouth.

He finished up his ministrations and packed away the first aid kit. He left the kit by her bedside, and said before he left, "Woman, I don't know how to be like Kakkarot. I cannot give you the companionship you have with Kakkarot. This is who I am," he said. "I am going to defeat Kakkarot because it is in my genes to. There can be no greater Saiyan than me."

Bulma looked at him somewhat mystified. "You are the Prince of the Saiyans. It is your birthright to be the strongest."

He left.

"I will help you," she said.


	4. Chapter 4

I Don't Have the Heart

By: Lehua

Disclaimer: DBZ is not mine, so these characters are not mine.

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Chapter 4

Vegeta popped his head into the woman's room early the next morning. Bulma was up already on her laptop working on the new schematics for the GR. "Good morning!" she said, not looking up from her work.

He grunted and stepped into the room.

"You're up early," she said.

"I need to train."

"Of course you do, and I'm working on how to make you better, faster," she said, her fingers tapping furiously at the keyboard.

"Are you going to stay in here all day?" he said.

"What?" she said, looking up. "Oh, no, I need to get to the lab." She closed the laptop. "Yeah, I guess I should get moving." Vegeta moved to pick her up but she waved him off. "I need to do this. How am I supposed to get better if you and Goku keep carrying me everywhere? Besides," she said as she stood unsteadily, "I'm feeling immensely better today."

Vegeta followed her to the stairs. "I'm going to need help here," she said. Vegeta picked her up and carried her down to the kitchen; he set her down at the table and got her a yogurt drink from the fridge. Bulma hummed as she drank her breakfast, drawing images of the new schematics on her laptop.

Her incessant humming was beginning to annoy him. He was still annoyed by his behavior yesterday, so her humming was starting to grate on his nerves. _Does she ever shut up?_ "What are you doing, woman?" he demanded.

She looked up at him. "The schematics for a fire resistant GR. You see-" and she proceeded to explain to him her upgrades for the GR. As he looked closer at her work, he saw that it wasn't an upgrade but a new GR. She was designing a totally different GR, one that would be both fire resistant and able to withstand extremely hot temperatures. He would be able to work under more gravity and use more firepower. But there was something missing about it.

"Where are you going to put it?" he said. She was missing the outer diagram of the GR.

"What? Oh, I was thinking of building an extension. It would be part of the house, so you wouldn't have to go outside. It would be more convenient," she said, finally looking at him.

_Why? Does she plan on me staying here?_ he thought, this time able to keep his mouth shut.

Bulma watched his reaction. She wasn't getting anything from him. Was he pleased she was extending her invitation to stay for longer? Was he aware of the implications of making the GR part of her home? She was practically asking him to stay forever, though she wasn't sure if she wanted him too. What if she did want him to leave later? She may be feeling good about her decision to make the GR a part of the house now, but she could just as easily regret her decision in a few weeks time.

Where was she going with this anyway? It seemed like the next logical step for the GR. The new GR would be able to withstand more firepower, so it wouldn't blow up as easily. In fact, if she did it correctly, it wouldn't be destroyed unless under great duress—like the end of the world. This GR would be bigger and better than any portable GR she could make because it would be based in one permanent area. The portable GR was difficult because it drew a lot of power from its own energy reserve; the new GR would use the same power as the rest of the house, which was a bigger, stabler power source than the current power source the GR used, and it would have its own backup reserve should the power go out. It would be a better GR all around.

"What do you think?" she said.

"When will it be ready?"

Bulma smiled.

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Bulma had the new GR working a few weeks later. Vegeta had helped her when she asked, complaining little and saying less. They had reached a comfortable plateau: not friends but no longer strangers. She had watched him train a few more times and made some adjustments to the new GR. Vegeta seemed to progress at a regular rate, so she developed a program that would take into account his estimated new abilities and would thus adjust as he grew stronger. The new GR would also be able to vary the gravity in different parts of the room so that it would be heavier in some parts and lighter in others.

Her burns healed nicely and she had little scarring. Any scarring that she did have she removed herself so that her skin appeared unblemished. Working on the GR had toned up her muscles and she was feeling sleek and sexy by the completion of the GR. Vegeta looked the same and pretty much acted the same, but at least he wasn't fighting with her as much. He hadn't expressed his appreciation, but he hadn't caused any major fights with her either, which, if she thought about it would be the only way he'd show appreciation for anything. He was a man of few words.

Bulma brushed her hair out of her face and surveyed her work. It was done. It extended the house by 40 yards and was a couple stories high. There was more than enough space inside to have the whole Z team train in there with ample room. Of course, it was really for just one man: Vegeta.

"Speak of the devil," she said as he approached her. She closed the back hatch of the GR and walked towards him. "What do you think?"

Vegeta looked at the GR. It was massive and well-built. "How long do you think it'll take for me to blow it up?"

Bulma laughed. "Not even you would be able to destroy this one, unless you directed an energy ball at it from the outside, and even then, it would have to be the size and power of a spirit bomb."

They walked into the house together. "Are you done for the day?" It was just before dark, and she was mildly surprised he was out of the portable GR already.

He grunted.

"Wanna do something?" she asked.

_Do something?_ He had planned on perhaps trying out the new GR tonight.

"Or were you hoping to play with the new GR? Is that why you're out here so early?"

Vegeta avoided looking at her. _Am I that predictable?_

"That is why you're out early. I should have guessed before I had even asked you," she said as she followed him inside the kitchen. "I'll just go out by myself then—maybe try to get a date." She walked up the stairs. "Then again, maybe I'll just enjoy the time out alone—men at bars suck." She entered her room and closed the door behind her.

Vegeta watched her retreating form. _I am predictable._ Should it even matter to him anyway? No. What did he care if she knew what to expect from him? It just made it easier to live with her; she wouldn't ask him frivolous questions about what the hell he was doing. He began making his early dinner.

He had not minded her company the last few weeks. She hadn't demanded anything from him, and hadn't complained to him about helping her out. And he had helped a little, when the bots weren't strong or agile enough to do the work. Now that everything was ready he was ready for things to go back to the way before, when they hadn't seen or talked to each other for days at a time.

_Do you really want it to go back to what it was before?_

Why wouldn't he? He didn't need her to keep him company. He didn't need her for . . . anything. All he needed was to train hard and beat the androids and Kakkarot.

_And then what?_

What would he do after he defeated Kakkarot? He didn't know. Did he want a family? Did he want to try and conquer the galaxy like Frieza? Would he leave this planet and try to find one suitable enough to try and start again? But he wouldn't be able to start again. He and Kakkarot were the last known surviving Saiyans; his race was dead. He supposed with some genetic engineering he would be able to create more Saiyans, but not enough to make a viable race.

So, if he couldn't make his race strong again, what was he going to do; if there was no one to fight, what could he possibly live for?

Then again, what made him think that Kakkarot was his last great battle? There were dozens of minor beings he knew of that he could make sport of, and it's not like he had conquered every planet in the known galaxy under Frieza's rule. There was always something to do.

_But is it enough?_

The voice in his head was beginning to annoy him. What it wanted him to admit was that he wanted the woman, and he wouldn't admit that to himself. It hung at the edges of his consciousness, but he wouldn't let it in. He knew his own mind, and he knew his own needs and wants, but he knew he could control them.

_For how much longer?_

Vegeta growled and thrust his plate into the sink. He needed a shower—a very cold shower. As he entered his room he could hear the woman singing in the shower. _She sings when she's happy, which means she doesn't mind that you're not going out with her._ And why shouldn't she be happy? She finished the new GR in record time. "Why should I care?"

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Bulma appraised her appearance in the mirror and smiled. It was too bad Vegeta wasn't going out with her tonight, but she wasn't going to push the issue; he wasn't the type of person to go out for fun. _All the fun he needs is in the GR,_ she thought. Goku was the same way with his training; Chichi was always complaining about how much Goku trained. _But he still has fun; he has a family; they must stabilize him, keep him from taking training too seriously._ She wondered if training too much would be detrimental to a Saiyan's health. It didn't appear to be; Vegeta seemed to be in perfect health.

Bulma walked down to the kitchen. Vegeta had apparently showered and changed into a new training suit. She felt his eyes on her back and swished her hips a little. "I'm going to be back late, so don't wait up for me," she said.

"Why would I wait up for you?" he said.

"I'm not," pause, "forget it. Do you want me to show you how to use the controls on the GR before I go?"

Vegeta paused. "No, I can probably figure them out myself, but I'm done with training for the day."

Bulma looked at him, her hand on the open door. "What are you going to do tonight?"

"Nothing."

"Why don't you come out with me then?" she asked.

"Why would I want to go out with you and do baka human things? There is nothing that you people do that is interesting to me," he replied as he sat down on the couch in the downstairs living room.

Bulma closed the door and sat next to him. "What do Saiyans do for fun?" she said, "besides destroy planets."

He looked at her seriously. "I read, develop tactical plans. Other Saiyans were known to make art, music. Saiyans do everything every other race does; we're just more interested in war related activities."

"No surprise there," she said, leaning back onto the couch. "Wanna watch a movie?"

"What movie?"

Bulma got up and browsed through her collection. "I'm sure I've got a few war movies in here. Let's see." She paused. "How about _Spartacus_?"

He grunted.

"I'll take that as a yes." She slipped the disc into the player and pressed play. "Do you want any popcorn?" she called from the kitchen. "Of course you do—what was I thinking?"

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Vegeta found _Spartacus_—and the movies following it—all lacking in essential blood shed and tactical prowess. No wonder this species was so weak: most of them we're retarded. There appeared to be very few individuals who knew how to put up a good fight, and they were long dead before he had arrived. Not to mention they all used material weapons; they couldn't generate their own firepower.

During the last movie—_Gone with the Wind_, a horrible movie (_why did she say it was a war flick?_)—she had fallen asleep on his chest. She had gradually moved into his personal space and he wasn't sure when he had put his arm around her and when she had fallen asleep, but he knew this was trouble. He never let anyone this close and without his express permission. It had just seemed to happen and now he was stuck in the predicament of trying to extract himself from her embrace and go to his room.

Before he could even move she yawned and said, "Is it over?"

He grunted.

She stretched and leaned against. "Thanks."

"For what?" he said.

"Watching movies with me."

He got up. "I wasn't watching them with you; I was in the room and you were watching them," he said as he went into the kitchen to make a later dinner.

"You didn't like any of them?" She followed him.

"What was there to like? They were all about your weak species and how they attempted to 'overcome adversity,'" he quoted from the movie description of some lame movie he could remember the name of. "Show me a movie that captures the essence of war, the tactical prowess of a mind pushed to its limits, of-"

"In other words, not an Earth movie," she said as he grabbed something from the fridge.

He grunted.

"Well, thanks anyway. I enjoyed them and your company."

Vegeta handed her a sandwich.

"Why didn't you train tonight?" she asked between bites.

"Saiyan's get tired too, woman," he said.

"I'm sure Saiyan's do, but you're no regular Saiyan. You've been training almost nonstop since you moved in."

"Why does it matter?"

"It doesn't," she said polishing off her sandwich. "I was just curious about your odd behavior."

"My odd behavior?"

"Yeah, you haven't been arguing with me, you helped me out when I was healing—I mean, you even went to get help the first day after I was burned. The All Mighty Saiyan Prince got help for this weak little woman," she said.

"Your mother would have annoyed me and Kakkarot could train with me," he replied.

"But then you told him not to come back the next day, and you took care of me yourself." Bulma got up from the table and took her and Vegeta's plate to the sink. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were becoming domesticated," she said with her back to him.

Vegeta grabbed her from behind, his right hand covering her throat. "Saiyans are never domesticated."

Bulma tensed. Perhaps she had gone a bit far on the last comment. She was only joking after all, but he seemed to have taken it as a threat—as if she could really threaten him. "I was joking," she said.

He released her. What had come over him? She wasn't any physical threat, but he had felt the need to snap her neck. But when he touched her he had felt the need to bite her, and he was annoyed that he hadn't used as much force as he should have. His mind said he should do one thing, but his body said another thing entirely, and he wasn't in control as much as he should be.

Bulma leaned against the sink, unsure of what she should do. She was playing with fire here; she knew that as soon as she had first seen him. It was ironic that the worst burns she ever got in her life were obtained while she was trying to save his life. She wasn't sure if she wanted to play with this fire, but she didn't know if she could stop herself. It seemed like the last few weeks had been leading up to the point where she was either going to quit or get her hands dirty. She was at a crossroads now and she was unsure.

He hadn't been rough with her just now, and she could swear that he sniffed her as he held her throat in his hands. Was that a sign that maybe he wanted something more too? He still stood behind her, no doubt his own thoughts troubling him.

She turned around and placed a hand on his chest. He didn't step back or move forward.

What was she doing? Why was she looking at him that way? Vegeta wanted to pull away but couldn't. He looked into her eyes and saw the same conflict.

It didn't matter who leaned in first, but soon they were kissing, her hands roaming across his back and his down her sides. He crushed her up against the sink and wrapped her in his arms, deepening the kiss. She clung to him, running her fingers through his hair. Both their bodies sang, and Bulma gladly gave into the song, but Vegeta resisted. He pulled away from her. She cried out from the sudden deprivation.

"Woman, stay away from me," he said and left.

Bulma stood in the kitchen, alone.


	5. Chapter 5

I Don't Have the Heart

By: Lehua

Disclaimer: DBZ is not mine, so I don't own these characters.

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Chapter 5

Sweat ran down Vegeta's body in rivers. He had been training not stop all day, avoiding the woman physically and trying to push her away from him mentally. She hadn't bothered him since the incident last night, and while he was glad she gave him some space, he was annoyed that she didn't pursue him either. There was nothing. Why should it bother him at all what she was doing? He had no time to . . . be with her. He had to train, had to become stronger, had to beat Kakkarot. Once he killed Kakkarot there would be nothing for him here, and she would certainly hate him, so he didn't even want to delve into the possibility of a relationship with her. She would make his life a living hell when he killed Kakkarot if they were together.

But he was surprised by how good it felt to feel her against him last night. Training was good for him, but that kiss was better. Every other woman he had been with had never gotten that kind of reaction from him. It was infuriating to think she could bring up all this passion by just kissing him.

He punched at the air, angry at her and himself. He didn't have time.

"Hi, Vegeta."

"Kakkarot, what the hell are you doing here?" he said still punching at nothing.

"I needed to get something from Bulma for Chichi," Goku said, walking into the chamber. "You've got it cranked pretty high." Goku was referring to the gravity meter.

"Not high enough," Vegeta muttered as he watched Goku walk easily about the GR.

"So, this is the new GR. Awesome. I wish I had one," Goku said.

Vegeta stopped. "What the hell do you want?"

"What are you talking about?"

"The woman must have given you whatever it is you came here for. Why are you still here? Shouldn't you be scampering off home to your wife?" Vegeta said.

Goku laughed. "Yeah, I got whatever it is, but I thought I'd come see the new GR. Bulma told me she had finished it and that you were probably trying to blow it up." Goku walked around, touching an insulated, padded wall. "Quite a gift," he said.

"Gift? You think she made this just for me?" Vegeta said, crossing his arms.

"Who else? None of the Z team trains here—not that they wouldn't jump at the chance."

Vegeta growled. If he didn't know better, he'd say that Kakkarot was trying to play matchmaker, like that stupid woman's mother. _Kakkarot's an idiot; he doesn't know how to manipulate people._ "How do you know she didn't make it just so she could get me out of her hair?"

"If that was it," Goku said, jumping up and down as he studied the floor, "she would have made extras of the old GR and encapsulated them. This is quite a feat of engineering, and she went through a lot of trouble to develop it."

"Perhaps," Vegeta said, "but the GR stays here. If it was a 'gift' she would have made it portable so that I could take it with me after I kill you and destroy this baka planet."

"Maybe she wants you to stay," Goku said.

Vegeta scoffed, "Yeah, right, the weak woman wants a mass murderer to stay in her house FOREVER—as if I would stoop so low to live on this weak planet for the rest of my long life with that loud-mouth onna."

"It's just a thought," Goku said as he walked towards Vegeta. "Woman are tricky on this planet."

_So I have heard,_ Vegeta thought as he remembered what the woman had told him about Goku and Chichi.

"She may screw up all your plans," Goku said. He smiled, waved, and disappeared.

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Bulma tapped her pencil on the desk, unable to take her mind off of what had happened last night. Vegeta seemed to be acting normal, but she had noticed he hadn't been at lunch or dinner. _Perhaps he ate earlier or later than he usually did today, or maybe he just wasn't hungry_. She wasn't hungry herself, at least not for food.

"Hey."

Bulma jumped. "Goku! Don't scare me like that! Geese!" Bulma said, annoyed. She handed the package for Chichi to Goku.

"I just saw Vegeta."

"Really? What did he say?" _Why do I even want to know what he said?_

"The usual," Goku said, sitting on a stool next to Bulma. "He's a mass murderer, you're a weak woman, why the hell would you want him to say."

Bulma stared at him. "What?"

"We were talking about the GR and how I thought you wanted him to stay with you."

"What?" she said, standing up. "Why would I want that arrogant monster to stay with me?"

Goku backed away from her as she advanced towards him. "Hey, I thought that since you had made the GR a part of the house that you wanted him to stay." 

"Why would I want him to stay? I'll be happy when that bastard leaves." Bulma fumed inside; why would Goku say such things, especially to that self-righteous monkey? "Did it ever occur to you that I'm trying to get him out of here faster? The faster he reaches his goal the sooner he'll be gone." Bulma clenched her fists tightly together, drawing blood in some places. How dare he presume-

Goku sniffed the air. "Are you bleeding?"

Bulma snapped out of her rage and looked down at her hands.

Goku grabbed her hands. "Bulma, you're bleeding! Gosh, I didn't mean to upset you."

She pulled away from him. "Minor cuts; nothing to worry about." She sighed and reached for the fist aid kit. As she bandaged her hands, she said, "I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me. Things have been weird lately."

"Weird how?" he asked as he watched her. He was mildly distressed at her reaction; maybe things weren't going as they should be.

"Oh, nothing," she said.

Goku waited.

Bulma told him about what happened last night. "And we haven't said anything to each other since."

"He obviously wants you," Goku said after a few moments.

"Yeah, he wants me to stay away from him," she said.

Goku lifted her chin up. "If he wanted you to stay away from him, he would have left; there would have been nothing to keep him here."

Bulma pulled away from him. "The GR is what keeps him here."

"He could get the same type of training in space; all he would need is a spaceship." Goku pulled her into an embrace. She hugged him back. "He wants you but he doesn't know how to express it and he doesn't know if he really wants to. He was a mass murderer."

_Was,_ she thought, _he no longer is a mass murderer._

Bulma pulled away from him. "Thanks. You should go home; Chichi must be waiting for you."

"Are you going to be all right?"

She nodded.

"Well, if you need anything, ju—"

RING! RING!

Bulma picked up the phone. "Brief's residence . . . hi, Chichi . . . yes, he was just about to leave . . . okay, I'll tell him." Bulma hung up the phone. "She said you better get your butt back home this instant or you won't get any breakfast in the morning."

Goku's eyes went wide. "Oh, bye," he said and was gone.

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3:00 AM

Vegeta got up from his seated meditation and left the GR. Meditating helped to center him, and he was in dire need of some centering. The stupid woman had been plaguing his thoughts all day. He had finally been able to control his urges and push her out, and now he was just tired. He was mildly annoyed that he wouldn't get as much sleep as he should between training sessions, but figured in battle there would be no sleep, so it shouldn't matter in the long run whether or not he got enough sleep.

His stomach growled so he made his way to the kitchen in the dark. He didn't feel weak and he could survive without eating, but why deny himself the luxury of a good meal? He bumped into another hand as he went to open the fridge door. He jumped back and flicked on the light. "Woman, what the hell are you doing in the dark in the kitchen?"

Bulma's bleary eyes stared back at him. "Getting something to eat, Monkey Boy." She opened the fridge and started to rummage through it.

He watched her for a moment, wanting to smack her for calling him Monkey Boy and wanting to run his hands down her body, but steeled himself and said, "Human's can't see in the dark." He couldn't believe he hadn't noticed her either; perhaps he was more tired than he had thought.

Bulma slammed the fridge door shut and instead grabbed a pint of ice cream from the freezer. "I would have guessed that Saiyan's could see in the dark, but I guess not." She grabbed a spoon and made her way to the stairs. "Besides, I wasn't planning on making some elaborate dinner for little ol' me; I'll take my ice cream to my room."

Vegeta stared at her retreating form. "Woman, have you eaten at all today?" _Why did I just ask her that? I should be making my dinner and ignoring her._

She stopped. "I've been eating junk. Why?"

_Stuipid, stupid, what the hell am I going to say now? _"I was going to make something; are you hungry?"

She walked half way back down the stairs and stared at him like he had two heads. "Sandwiches?"

"What else would I make?" he growled.

He pulled out all the necessary ingredients and began making his—and her—dinner. _Can I not control my mouth anymore either?_ All the meditation had come to nothing in the end: here she was, occupying his entire mind and even his personal space, by his own volition. He handed her three sandwiches and started munching on his own.

"Who are you and what have you done with the Vegeta I live with?" she said before she took a bite.

"I am Prince Vegeta and you better not say anything about this to anyone," he said.

She giggled and he felt his mood lift. He hadn't even noticed how dark everything had been until she laughed. What was this power she had over him? She laughs and he feels better.

"Do I see a smile peeking out from underneath your heartless façade?" she said.

He frowned and she laughed.

"Why are you laughing at me, woman?" he said.

And she laughed harder, and then fell out of her chair. He flew over the table and looked at her as she continued to laugh. She was doubled over in what looked like pain, tears streaming down her face. And suddenly she began to cry, loud sobbing cries. He grabbed her.

"Why are you crying?" he said.

She stood before him, crying. And just as suddenly she hit him. Once. Twice. Three times. Over and over again, all the while crying.

_What is wrong with her?_

"I hate you!" she said. "All you do is give me grief and pain! All I want to do is love you and all you do is insult me, break my things, break my heart!"

He pushed her away. "Woman, I-"

She advanced toward him. "The all mighty Saiyan Prince needs no one. He needs to be stronger, faster, better; he needs to beat the strongest warrior in the universe; he needs to destroy Earth; he needs to make everyone subservient to himself. It's always your needs, YOUR NEEDS; what about my needs?"

He stepped back and bumped into the table. "Woman, what do your needs have to do with me?"

She grabbed him and kissed him, pushing him back on the table. He saw white, her passion and force blinding him temporarily. And then he was pushing her back, his hands running down her sides, under her shirt, tearing at her clothes.

"I need you," she said between breaths, her teeth biting at his skin.

He picked her up and carried her to his room.

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Reviews would be nice. I did a study several years back and found that if I ask for reviews, more people will review. I like to read people's thoughts, and I do like encouragement. Thank you to those who have already reviewed: you have made my life a little brighter.

-Lehua


	6. Chapter 6

I Don't Have the Heart

By: Lehua

Disclaimer: DBZ is not mine, so these characters are not mine.

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Chapter 6

"Vegeta!" she cried as she climaxed.

He grunted a moment later and laid beside her, breathing hard.

She took a moment to breathe and then turned over to look him over. Sweat gleaned all over his body, dripping onto the black satin sheets beneath them. _Where had he gotten these sheets?_ Surprised by the sheets she took her time to look at his room. Had she never been in his room after he moved in? When they had first come in she had noticed everything in snatches, too caught up by what his hands and lips were doing to her: a large bed, a dresser, shelves, and a mirror. Minimal furniture, something she expected from someone who spent most of his time somewhere else. But he also had melted candles of varying degrees placed in strategic places around his room, and as far as she could she, everything was neat—no clothes on the floor, not living out of laundry baskets.

"What are you looking at, woman?" he said.

Bulma got up from the bed and looked at the shelves. He actually had . . . books. None were labeled, but they appeared to be journals. She took one down and handled it carefully; the binding was smooth and it opened naturally to the last page. It was dated yesterday. She placed it back on the shelf.

"Satisfied?" he said when she came back to the bed.

"I didn't know you kept a journal," she said; she was seated cross-legged.

"I do know how to write."

She let it go. "Vegeta, I'm s-"

"Are you about to apologize for 'jumping my bones'—as some people on your stupid planet call it?" he said not looking at her.

"What? Well, I-"

"Don't bother, woman. You're not sorry about it." He got up from the bed and went into his bathroom.

Bulma heard the water turn on in the shower. "Are you?"

He said nothing.

_The least he could do is answer my question._ She got up and went to the bathroom, annoyed. Was this it? Was she supposed to go back to her room like a good little girl and pretend like nothing had happened? He was already in the shower, so she got in with him.

"Woman-"

She kissed him softly this time, and felt him tremble against her lips. He growled, caught her in his arms, and they had sex—_made love,_ her mind said as she peaked again and cried out his name. She ran a washcloth over his body, running her fingers over all of his scars and memorizing all the places she touched that stopped his breath. She leaned back against him as he washed her and felt his fingers play with her as he nipped at her neck. _Why even shower?_ she thought as they exited the bathroom, freshly cleaned and dry, but unable to stop from ravishing each other.

She curled up against him and drew lazy circles on his chest with her fingers. "Are you?"

"No," he said, putting his arm around her.

She slept.

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Vegeta watched the woman as she slept; she made a small wheezing sound as she breathed and her skin was beginning to get prickly from cold. He drew the sheets over them and she sighed, sinking deeper into his body. He was surprised how good it felt to have her sleep in his arms, but then again, he had been surprised by many things.

She was one moody, crazy woman. Here she was, asleep in his bed, naked, perfectly at ease sleeping with a mass murderer. The other women had given themselves freely as well, but they hadn't known the depth of his evil as she did, and still she was here, she had initiated it; she was sleeping with the man who threatened to kill everyone she held dear. She had attempted to apologize after the first time, but he thought it was more out of shame for letting herself go then for the sex.

It was good sex, and he knew it would be. How could it not have been? She was always on fire about everything she did, whether it was work or arguing with him, she could always be expected to do it with relish and zeal.

No, he wasn't sorry about it. Now that it had happened, he knew that it had been inevitable. But she was going to expect more from him now, and he didn't know if he could give it to her, or if he even wanted to. Kakkarot had been right; she had complicated things, but only if he let them be complicated. Tomorrow he could pretend like nothing had happened, and treat her as the weak human that she is.

_But you don't want to._

He wanted her to be in his bed every night, wanted to feel her tremble beneath him and hear her voice cry out his name in ecstasy. He wanted her to need him, to take him to places he could never reach with his training, to give him the strength that he knew Kakkarot must derive from his own family. He had felt close, so close to reaching his goal as they were having sex, he almost cried. It was close, just out of reach, and she had almost taken him there. This small woman was opening doors which he had been trying to force his entire life.

"What is this power you have over me?"

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Vegeta woke alone. _Where did the woman go?_ He was supposed to leave her alone in the bed; never had he been the one to wake up alone. He showered, dressed, and made his way to the kitchen. He could hear her humming to herself from the kitchen. "Woman, I-" was as far as he got.

The table was set and she had made platters of foods he had never seen before. There was lots of yellow, fluffy stuff; several different meats; different kinds of bread stuff. She had never cooked; he didn't even know she knew how to cook. She had woken up before him to make him . . . breakfast.

"Morning, Veggie-chan!" she said. She paused long enough to kiss him and continued frying something on the stove. "Get started. Everything's edible—as far as I know; no one's ever complained before. It's about the only things I know how to make, though, so don't expect anything grander than this. I eat out for every other meal."

Vegeta took his seat and stared at her. What was she doing? He saw her mouth moving but didn't understand anything coming out of it. He had come down here expecting to chew her a new asshole and here she was making him breakfast, and from what he could smell, something that was not only edible but would actually taste good.

"-training soon, so why don't you get started and then go train? I have some work I have to do at CC so I won't be home all day, but I should be home for dinner." She placed a plate in front of him. "Actually, you know what, I'm not that hungry so I'm just going to go now—the sooner I'm gone, the sooner I'll be back—so I'll see you later," she said, gave him a kiss on the cheek, and left.

He ate everything and cleaned up after he was done. It had all been good—he had especially liked the bread with the weird squares in it. 

Was this normal female behavior? Never had he encountered a woman who could bounce back from his sexual appetite so quickly and not have any lingering effects.

_It's not like you went all out last night._

True, he had held back, but she shouldn't have been able to move, much less wake up before him, make a feast, and then go to work. She had seemed cheery and not at all fatigued. Was it not enough for her? Should he have 'put out' more? She had fallen asleep first; she hadn't asked him for more. Had she wanted more? Had he stopped too early in the night? Was she more resilient than her weak species appeared to be?

These thoughts plagued him all day until she got home later that night. She came in humming, tossed her keys on the table, and promptly picked up the telephone.

"Woman, I-"

"Let me order dinner before we talk; I know you must be hungry and I'm starving," she said.

He waited. _Why am I waiting?_

"So, what's up?" she said after she had ordered a few dozen pizzas.

"Woman, why are you do damned happy?"

"What are you talking about, Veggie?" she said, smiling. "Why shouldn't I be happy?"

_Yeah, why shouldn't she be happy._ "You weren't in bed when I woke up."

"Oh, kami, Vegeta, don't tell me you were upset because I woke up before you. I did make you a feast this morning—by the way, how was it?"

"Satisfactory," he replied.

"I'll take that as awesome. You really should learn how to give compliments in my language." Bulma got up and began to knead his shoulders. "You look tired. Did you achieve what you wanted today?"

"No." He jumped; he had started relaxing at her ministrations.

"Calm down," she said, "I'm only giving you a massage."

He pushed her away. "You haven't answered my question."

"Why am I so happy?" she said as she sat down. "Why wouldn't I be? I finally got you in the sack."

"That couldn't have been your objective all this time."

She nodded. "No, it wasn't, but it was a pretty good idea, and even you admitted that you weren't sorry about it." She sighed. "Who would have guessed that making love could be-"

"Love? What love? We had sex."

She snorted. "You say sex; I say love. Besides, even if you don't love me now, you will-"

"Saiyan's don't love, woman," he said. _Does she ever stop talking?_

"Goku loves Chichi, I don't see why you-"

"Kakkarot was dropped as a baby; he has brain damage," he said, getting up from the table. "Saiyan's don't love. If love is what I think it is, then love is a weakness we can't afford." He started up the stairs, planning on showering before dinner arrived. "When will the 'pizza' be here?"

Bulma sat at the table quietly.

"Woman, I asked you a question."

She said nothing.

"Woman, answer me: when will the-"

"What do you mean? You'll never love me?" she said softly.

He came back down the stairs. She looked at him, her eyes startled and a little hurt. He felt pain in his chest as he looked at her hurt expression. _Why did it matter whether or not he would love her? Why was love so important anyway? _

She shook her head. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have compared you to Goku; I should never compare you to Goku. You two are as different as night and day." She shrugged. "Goku bumped his head and learned how to love." She laughed.

"Woman, I-"

"No," she said. "I get it. I shouldn't have rushed to conclusions. You didn't promise me anything, and I shouldn't have assumed. I brought this pain on myself and I will just have to get over it." She got up from the table. "I need to shower. The pizza will be here in about an hour." She touched him briefly on the shoulder before she went upstairs.

Vegeta stood alone, annoyed and upset. He was still distressed from her expression. He shouldn't care about her feelings, shouldn't feel any pain on her behalf. He was the Saiyan no Ouji; her feelings meant nothing to him. _Do they really mean nothing?_ What did it matter if she fell in love with him? She knew he couldn't return her love, and if she continued to pursue him, then she knew what she was getting into.

What if she didn't want him anymore? What if she decided it wasn't worth the pain and just left him? What if she went back to that idiot Yamcha because he could love her? Vegeta growled and felt an energy ball building in his hand. He couldn't stomach watching the woman see someone else now; she was his now, no one else's.

_She is mine._

_Is she really? Do you have the time to be with her? How are you going to get stronger than Kakkarot if she occupies every thought of every moment of every day? What happens when you kill Kakkarot? Will she want you then?_

No, she wouldn't want him after Kakkarot was dead.

_Is the woman worth more than killing Kakkarot?_

_I don't know._

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	7. Chapter 7

I Don't Have the Heart

By: Lehua

Disclaimer: DBZ is not mine, so these characters are not mine.

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Chapter 7

Goku hadn't been dropped on his head, but his tail had been cut off, so Bulma could see some logic in Vegeta's thinking. Perhaps losing his tail had been the catalyst that made it possible for Goku to love. But how did she know Goku could love at all? Maybe Saiyans really didn't know what love was; maybe she had assumed Goku loved Chichi because that's what he was supposed to do—as a normal human being. But Goku wasn't human, wasn't even partially human, so how could she say without doubt that he could love Chichi at all. If what Vegeta said was true, could she love him despite the fact that he could never love her?

Was there an equivalent to love for a Saiyan? They may not be able to love but that didn't mean they couldn't have a strong emotional attachment to another person. And wasn't that what love was anyway? An emotional attachment that caused people to put others before themselves, even if faced with death?

Bulma let these thoughts percolate in her mind for a few weeks. She hadn't returned to Vegeta's bed and he hadn't spoken to her since. He hadn't tried to coax her into a fight, and he appeared to be resigned to the fact that perhaps she didn't want him anymore. They avoided each other whenever possible and soon they were back to their routine before the GR exploded.

Vegeta both minded and didn't mind the change. Part of him wanted her to come back to him, wanted to have her with him, but the other part wanted to surpass Kakkarot, wanted to leave this sorry ass planet for new horizons—away from the meddlesome woman. He felt bereft at night without her, and angry at her and himself that one night could cause so much turmoil in his mind and body. How could one woman bring the mighty Saiyan Prince to his knees, wanting to beg her to return but unable to do so because of his pride.

Bulma found herself one morning kneeling over the toilet and throwing up. All the contents of last night's dinner came out and then some, leaving her body shaking and her throat burning. She leaned back onto the bathroom wall and thought, _I'm pregnant._ Her one night stand with the high and mighty Saiyan Prince had left her pregnant. She was on the pill, hadn't thought they'd need protection, hadn't thought much really except her body's response to him, and now she was left with his child growing in her stomach. Her period hadn't rolled along as scheduled, so she knew both logically and at a deeper level that she was pregnant.

"What am I going to do?" she said.

There was no way she could avoid this problem as she had been avoiding Vegeta. And he would know soon enough when the baby developed its own ki signature. She couldn't hide it from him, but she didn't want to tell him. _What if he just left?_ Would she raise the baby alone? A child who would grow up to look like its father—would she not be plagued by Vegeta's image everyday of the rest of her life? "Of course, it could look like me," she said and laughed. But it would be his, and she would see the resemblance, and her heart would break every time she looked at her child. She could see why women would give up their children for adoption; she didn't know if she could look into her child's eyes and not die a little inside every time.

Bulma picked herself up from the floor, cleaned herself up, and went to the kitchen. "Now I know why I've been eating so kami-damned much," she muttered.

Vegeta was in the kitchen eating breakfast. He sniffed the air. "What's wrong with you, woman?"

"Nothing. Leave me alone," she snapped, grabbing everything that looked edible in the fridge and depositing it on the table.

Vegeta hadn't seen her much lately and mildly miffed at her tone. "Woman, you should address me-"

"I don't fucking care how I should address you, oh Prince-of-the-pain-in-my-ass," she said as she slammed cabinets doors and put her breakfast together.

Vegeta watched her fury as she threw together a breakfast that consisted of the oddest assortment of food: potato salad, ice cream, cereal, and pickles. There was definitely something wrong with her. He could smell bile, and he could tell her hormones levels were elevated too. Her posture was defensive, hunched over her food as she ate, and the amount she was eating was abnormal for her size and appetite. "Woman, because you are sick I will let your comments go this time, but you should see a doctor so that you can be back to 'normal' and I can avoid you whole-heartedly without worrying about your health."

Bulma eyed him but continued to eat her food. "I know exactly what is wrong with me, Monkey Boy; I do not need your opinion of what I should do. Besides, when do you care about anyone else besides you?"

She was right; why should he care? "You smell like bile."

She sneered. "And you smell like crap every time you come out the GR, but I don't mention it, do I?"

He leaned back in his chair and stared at her. "You're certainly in a mood this morning."

"Why shouldn't I be? You have talked to me in weeks and the first thing you say is 'what's wrong with you, woman;' you don't even address me by my name."

Bulma got up and threw her plates in the sink. Vegeta winced as a few of them broke and grated against the metal. He stood up, slamming his hands on the table. "Woman-"

"My name is BULMA: B, U, L, M, A. Get it right, Monkey Brain." She had rounded on him and was screaming, her face red from the exertion. "It's your fault that I'm sick." She poked him in the chest. "It's your fault that I smell like 'bile.'" She poked him again. "If you had just been yourself and not given into my advances, I wouldn't be having this problem." She turned away and stomped out of the kitchen.

"What are you talking about? How is any of this my fault?" he said, following her.

"You're intelligent. Figure it out." She left to go to her lab.

_If the world was ending she would have blamed it on me_, he thought. In all likelihood it would have been his fault if the world was ending, but that wasn't the point. How was her being sick his fault? They hadn't slept with each other in three weeks. He didn't have any diseases so there was no way he could be the cause of her discomfort.

"Woman," he said following her into her lab. "There is no way that I am the cause of your sickness. I have no diseases."

She threw something at him. "You're the disease! You are the disease that is plaguing me."

He dodged another projectile. "Woman, I'll have you know-"

"I don't want to know anything about you! I wish I hadn't let you stay here because then," she said, stepping up to him, "I wouldn't have this problem." She grabbed his hand and placed it on her stomach.

"Woman, what are you-"

And then he felt it, a little stir of ki coming from the weak woman. She was pregnant.

"Woman, you're-"

"Yeah, stupid, I'm pregnant. I'm taking the best drugs in the world to prevent pregnancy, and your super Saiyan sperm makes me pregnant. I don't know how Chichi isn't popping one out every nine months."

She turned to pull away from him but he pulled her back, keeping his hand on her stomach.

He was going to be a father. This woman, with whom he had spent one night, was pregnant. Whatever drugs she was on hadn't prevented her from getting pregnant, and while he was irritated by this new development in their relationship, he wasn't against having a child. He was surprised the galaxy wasn't littered with his progeny; no woman had claimed a child as his, but it would have been advantageous for them—if it were true—if they had, because he would have seen to their wellbeing. He was a mass murderer, not a monster.

"Woman, I-"

"I'm keeping it," she said, succeeding in pulling away from him and protectively covering her stomach. "Just because you're the father doesn't mean I'm going to get rid of it. It's got half of my genes which is more than enough to make up for any deficiencies in yours."

Did she think he'd let her abort the child? "Woman, I-"

"So don't you go thinking you have any right to tell me what I can do with my body; it's my baby too, and I will not-"

"Will you shut up for a minute?" he roared.

Bulma jumped back as if she'd been struck. He hadn't meant to be so loud, but she was getting on his last nerve, and he didn't want to be responsible for anything he did if she ripped it out of his head.

"Woman, I am not going to tell you to get rid of the brat."

"It's not a-"

He held up his hand to silence her.

"It is a brat because it's mine and that's what my progeny are: brats." He paused. "Because it is my child I will be here for it, and when I destroy this awful planet I will take it with me and it will be well-cared for. I will not abandon my child on this insignificant planet to live its life in stupidity and squalor."

"My planet is not stupid and I certainly do not live in squalor. This is the best home you're ever gonna find, and there is no way in hell you're taking my baby away when you leave." She got into a defensive stance.

"As if I'd fight you, woman; I can knock you over with my little finger. You would not be able to keep me away from what is rightfully mine—not even with Kakkarot's help."

"He seems to have bested you by becoming Super Saiyan first—I don't see how you'd get to the baby if I had Goku protecting us."

"Woman, no one would be able to protect you from me if you kept my child away from me," he said softly.

"I will not let my child be a monster!" she cried as she backed away from him.

"A monster? Is that what you think I am? Is that why you've stayed away from me for the last three weeks, hiding your pregnancy?"

"I was not hiding my pregnancy; I didn't know until today. And no, I wasn't staying away from you because you're a monster; it's because I don't want the heartbreak of falling in love with a man who can never love me!" She ran out of the room.

He let her go this time.

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Bulma ran to her room and threw herself onto her bed. That hadn't gone as she had planned. Something about him had made her put up her defenses as soon as she had entered the kitchen and it had been all down hill from there. As if she'd ever let him take away her baby! But could she deny him access to it? No. She hadn't thought he'd want the baby, and was trying to prepare herself for the shock of him denying her baby, but she was surprised when he claimed it as his own, and was mildly comforted that he would choose to take care of the child when he 'destroyed' her home planet.

She had stepped over the line when she had called him a monster. He wasn't a monster, and she never thought he was one, but it was out before she could stop and she didn't see how she could take it back. He had appeared hurt when she called him a monster, and it hurt her to remember the look on his face.

What made her think she could stop herself from falling in love with him? She was already in love. The evidence was clear; she had experienced withdrawal symptoms every night since they'd been together—uncontrollable shaking and vomiting. She was pregnant, but that didn't account for the shaking, and the dreams; more than once she had found herself at his door in the middle of the night, no doubt because of her sex dreams involving Vegeta.

She heard Vegeta's door open and close across the hall. It was early; _he should be training_. She gave herself a moment, got up, and made her way to his door.

"Come in," he said.

She opened the door and was greeted by the smell of melted wax. He had closed the curtains and was sitting in the middle of the room. "Are you meditating?" she said, closing the door behind her.

He grunted.

"Vegeta . . . I'm sorry for calling you a monster. You're not a monster; I didn't know what I was saying," she said.

He grunted.

"I mean, I'd just figured it out this morning, and then you were there and, I don't know, I felt the need to protect my baby. I thought you'd try to force me to abort it, and if that didn't work you'd just take it away from me altogether, and I didn't want you to."

"Woman, I wouldn't take your baby away from you."

"But you said-"

"You assumed we'd always be at odds about the baby. I assume that you will want to come with me after I destroy your little planet."

_Go with him? Does he actually think I would let him destroy my planet?_ But if he did, would she want to go with the man who ended her world? If he had the baby, yes. He hadn't been saying he'd take the baby away from her; he had been saying that he would take them both away. He did . . . care.

"You assume that you will want to destroy the planet after the baby is born," she said, a small smile appearing on her face.

"I don't see why some brat would change my ambitions," he replied.

_We'll see about that._

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Lehua: So, I know I screwed up about Goku being dropped on the head. I woke up this morning and was like, "wait, his tail was chopped off." So sorry, so sorry.

Vegeta: mutters That doesn't mean he wasn't dropped on his head.

Bulma: Vegeta! Behave yourself!

Vegeta: Don't tell me what to do, woman! he stomps away

Bulma: I'm sorry; he doesn't have any manners. You'd think being a Saiyan Prince he would have learned some.

Lehua: Don't worry about it. watches him as he goes away I like him just the way he is.

Bulma: narrows her eyes Hey!

Lehua: backs away Not what I meant! Not what I meant!

Bulma: leaves

Lehua: sigh of relief


	8. Chapter 8

I Don't Have the Heart

By: Lehua

Disclaimer: DBZ is not mine, so I don't own these characters.

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Chapter 8

A few weeks later . . .

"Woman, your retching is beginning to grate on my nerves," Vegeta said as he watched Bulma drag herself into the kitchen.

"What would you like me to do, Your Royal Assness?" she said. She grabbed a gallon of milk and sat at the table.

Vegeta watched her in disgust as she drank directly from the gallon. "You could move out while you're in this 'condition.'"

"This is my house; you don't like it, you move out." She belched and then moved off into the living room.

She was surprised at the intensity of the nausea; she hadn't expected it. Weight gain: yes; nausea: yes; throwing everything up at all hours of the day: no. Her work was beginning to suffer because she couldn't spend long enough on a task without emptying the contents of the stomach every ten minutes. Was this normal? The only one who would know was Chichi, and Bulma was too proud to ask and too mortified to tell anyone she was having Vegeta's child—she didn't want to deal with the stares and looks of incredulity and pity. She might have been able to take it if Vegeta was at least half way civil to her, and if they were actually together, but being that he hadn't said one word to her about anything pertaining to their volatile relationship, she was inclined to think that their relationship was over before it even began.

Bulma turned on the TV and began channel surfing.

"Woman, shouldn't you be working, or exercising?" Vegeta said.

He had followed her into the room, trying to evoke some kind of response out of her. Her arguments as of late were dismal, and he was growing both bored and annoyed with her. Could having a baby change someone that much? He had expected her to be more irrational and highly susceptible to mood swings, but she seemed to be getting more rational and better able to control her moods than before—if you could call being a snippy bitch all the time control.

"I don't have to work for money, Monkey Prince, because I'm a billionaire; and I don't need exercise—yet."

Vegeta growled. "Well, you need to do something because you're beginning to annoy me."

Bulma scoffed but said nothing.

Vegeta stood in front of her.

"Get out of my way!" she said, trying to shove him with her foot.

"Woman, do something."

"No!" She stood up and tried to push him out of the way. "You can't tell me what to do!"

"I am a Saiyan Prince; I can command you to do whatever I want."

"If you haven't noticed, I'm not Saiyan," she said, moving over when she couldn't budge him.

"And if you haven't noticed, you are pregnant with a Saiyan child, so you are now part of the Saiyan Empire."

"And your Empire consists of how many? Five plus you?"

"As of now, yes." He moved to block her view.

She moved over.

He moved.

She moved.

He moved.

She moved.

He moved.

"Get out of my way!" she screamed and shoved him, hard. He fell back onto the living room table, wood splinters flying everywhere.

"Vegeta!" she said, crouching over him.

He wasn't hurt, just stunned. She had actually budged him from his spot; this weak woman had moved him. "Woman-"

"Are you okay?" she said with a look of concern. "I didn't mean to, I don't know what came over me, I didn't think I'd-" Her eyes began to tear.

"Woman-"

"Why do you do this to me? Can't you just leave me alone—leave me to suffer alone? Why do you have to flaunt yourself around me? Do you enjoy my pain? Are you such a sadistic bastard that you enjoy the pain you inflict on me everyday?" She stood up. "What do you want me to do? Pretend like nothing happened? Bicker with you over stupid shit like we used to before? Give me a good reason why I should pretend like nothing happened, like I'm not carrying your child, like it matters to you whether or not I exist beyond the means of bringing your child into the world?" Tears were streaming down her face.

Vegeta hadn't wanted to evoke this kind of response from her. He felt a twinge of guilt as he stood up and dusted himself off. She had seemed in fine spirits after they had made up, and he saw no reason why she should be in such a high emotional state, especially over him. Did she not hear him when he told her that while he could not love her, he would be here for the child? _She wants you to be there for her too,_ said the small annoying voice in his head.

Bulma removed a splinter from his hair, her other hand caressing his face. He felt a deep rumbling in his chest but suppressed it.

He grabbed her hand. "Woman, I told you-"

"I know what you said," she said, removing her hand from his grasp. "That doesn't make it any easier for me. Just because you don't have any emotions doesn't mean I can turn mine off." Bulma began to sort the debris, placing the large pieces together in one pile.

Vegeta watched her: her shoulders were down, face towards the ground. She had the look and air of defeat. It was so unlike her to appear to be or even be defeated that he grabbed her and pulled her close to him, looking into her eyes. She turned her face away and closed her eyes. He guided her face to his and she reluctantly opened her blue eyes. She was broken.

He held her, annoyed for being unable to stop. She clung to him, crying, soaking his shirt.

"What do you want me to do?" she whispered.

He made no reply. He didn't know, maybe didn't even care what she did, as long as she did something. The continual moping and retching was actually beginning to get on his nerves—that much was true. But what could she do? He didn't have the inclination, didn't have the time to be what she wanted him to be, wasn't even sure he could be. His goal was to be Kakkarot still; having a child with this annoying—but beautiful—woman was secondary to that. But her obvious pain—now it was obvious—was pulling at him, and he felt guilt.

She pulled away from him and walked up to her room.

"Woman, this mess-"

"I'll deal with it later; I need a nap," she said.

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It was dark by the time Vegeta got out of the GR. The living room table was still in shambles all over the place, and it didn't appear like the woman had come out of her room all day. He made some dinner and took her some sandwiches; she was the mother of his child after all and he needed to make sure she ate whether she cared to or not. He knocked on her door; hearing no response he entered, and found her no where to be seen.

"Woman, I made you something to eat," he announced, walking into the room.

The bed was unmade, but she was not in it. He touched the cotton sheets: cold. He heard a groan from the bathroom.

Bulma had been in the bathroom all day, long enough that it had gotten dark and she hadn't turned on the light. She had meant to get some work done, but had found it impossible to move after throwing up for so long. She was blinded momentarily when Vegeta flicked on the light.

"Geese, Vegeta," she said, shielding her eyes from the light.

"Woman, how long-"

Vegeta stopped. There was blood in the toilet.

Bulma looked down too. "Oh my Kami!" she screamed. She jumped away, as if the movement would prove it hadn't been her.

"Have you been in here all day?" Vegeta demanded, grabbing her arm.

"Well, uh, yes, I couldn't move and-" She stopped and grabbed her stomach.

Vegeta guided her to the bed. "Does-"

She shook her head after she sat down. "It doesn't hurt; I was worried, but I'm not bleeding down there." There was no blood on her pants. "I must have torn the stomach lining from throwing up so much."

He grunted. "Maybe you should go to the hospital."

"No, no. The baby's fine, I've just been, I just need to find a way to keep food down. I want to ask Chichi—but then I don't want to ask her." Bulma looked down at her hands.

_Was she ashamed?_

"Do you know anything about-"

He shook his head: no.

"Well, how did women on Vegetasei-"

"I don't know." He hadn't seen any pregnant women on Vegetasei. Women were warriors; the ones around him were warriors; he didn't know what pregnant women did. "Woman, if this has something to do with your weak species-"

"Hey!"

"-then we should go to your hospital and see what can be done."

Bulma stood up. "How do you know it's not because you impregnated me?" She poked him in the chest. "Why does it always have to be my fault?"

"Because," he said, picking her up and carrying her out of her room, "Saiyan women would not have this weakness; they would force themselves to keep the food down."

"How many pregnant Saiyan women did you know?" she said, trying to get down.

"None."

"Then how do you know they didn't have this problem?"

He looked at her. "Because they're Saiyan."

Vegeta kicked open the door and flew in the direction of the hospital. Bulma clung to him, and he was relieved she hadn't screeched when he had taken off; this close she may have damaged his hearing.

When they reached the hospital a few minutes later, she continued the conversation. "That doesn't mean they were invincible. Involuntary contractions of the stomach muscles could force them to throw up."

Vegeta entered the ER, still carrying Bulma. "I need a doctor now!"

A nurse called to him from the nurse's station. "Sir, you'll have to wait your turn. Everyone needs a doctor here." She turned away from him.

"I said-"

But before he could complete his sentence, Bulma had dislodged herself from his grasp and sent his a scathing look. _Let me deal with this_, it said. She walked up to the nurse's station and talked for a few minutes with the nurse.

"I'm sorry, Miss, but it's on a first-come, first-serve basis. You will have to wait like everyone else," the nurse said turning away.

"I am Bulma Briefs, heiress to Capsule Corp. I demand to be helped now."

"Miss Briefs?" The nurse paused to consider. "No, I'm sorry, it's hospital policy-"

"I don't care about hospital policy!" Bulma roared.

Vegeta watched from the sidelines, amused.

"Your hospital wouldn't be in business if it weren't for all the shit I invented so that you could have your job!"

"Look, lady, I don't care if you were the President of the Fuckin' Universe; hospital policy is hospital policy." The nurse had finally had enough.

Vegeta walked up to the station. "I-"

"I don't care who you are either, Sir," the nurse snapped.

Vegeta's fist came down hard on the station table, breaking it into small pieces. The nurse stepped back. She motioned for an orderly. "Call a doctor, now!" she said.

A doctor came and ushered them into a small room. After the door was closed he said, "Now, what seems to be the problem?"

"The woman can't keep food down," Vegeta said.

Bulma smacked him on the arm. "Vegeta! I can speak for myself." She turned to the doctor. "I was throwing up blood today."

"Did you eat something that didn't agree with you?" he said as he examined her mouth.

"Everything's not agreeing with me," she muttered.

"Do you think you had some contaminated food?"

"No."

"No raw meat, no food allergens, no-"

"I'm pregnant," she said.

The doctor stopped his examination. "I see," he said stepping back and taking a good look at her. "How long have you been pregnant, Miss Briefs?"

She looked down. "About 5 weeks," she said.

Vegeta didn't like the doctor's look. The doctor appeared both surprised and pleased. Why would the doctor be pleased? Could the doctor turn this situation to his advantage?

"Are you married?" the doctor asked.

Bulma shook her head: no.

"I see." The doctor scrawled some notes on a piece of paper. "Many women suffer from severe nausea during the first trimester. I am sure that in time it will abate, but in the mean time," he said handing her a scrip, "you should take these pills before you eat to sooth your stomach."

Bulma took the prescription from him, not looking at the doctor. "Thank you." She left.

Before Vegeta left the room he turned to the doctor. He grabbed the man by the throat and lifted him a few inches off the floor. "I better not hear of this," he said through clenched teeth.

The doctor paled and clawed at Vegeta's fingers.

"Clean up the mess and keep your mouth shut. If this gets out about the woman and she loses the baby, you're the first to go." Vegeta let him go and walked out.

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Bulma went to her room and cleaned up a bit after they got home. She hadn't spoken to Vegeta the whole way home. He had clearly seen her shame, and she was ashamed she had let him see it. She had compounded her shame, and she was surprised she could stand underneath the weight of it. All she needed to wait for now was to see her picture in the tabloids underneath the headline, _CC Heiress Knocked Up._

She popped a couple of pills in her mouth and swallowed it down with water. As she was walking out of her bedroom she noticed Vegeta's sandwiches sitting on her dresser; she picked them up and carried them down to the kitchen. Vegeta was already eating.

"Thank you," she said, "for the sandwiches, and for taking me to the doctor."

He grunted.

"I should expect to see something in the newspaper tomorrow-"

"No one is going to say a damned thing, woman," he said.

"Vegeta, you don't know this planet; this is front page-"

"I don't need to know anything about your planet to know that nothing's going to happen."

Bulma narrowed her eyes. "What did you do?"

"What do you think I did?"

"You didn't threaten the doctor, did you?" she said, her hands on her hips.

"What if I did?"

"Vegeta, that's not how-"

"I don't care how it 'works' here, woman. I have the right to protect my child." Vegeta got up and threw his plate in the sink. "Did you think I wouldn't notice the way he looked at you, as if he had something to gain from your pregnancy?"

"Do you really think that if my pregnancy got out that I would miscarry?" she said, surprised.

"What else can I think? You obviously feel ashamed about this child, and I will not have it in danger because some insignificant doctor wanted to make a few bucks."

"Vegeta, I'm not-"

"Yes you are. Don't lie to me, woman, I can see it in your eyes."

Bulma swallowed and looked down at the table.

"See? You're doing it now, looking down when you should be looking up. Where's the woman I know, the one who would rail at me, ME, the Prince of the Saiyans, for waking her up to fix the kami-damned GR? Where's the woman who knew how to make snippy comebacks and throw my own lineage back at me? Where's the woman who attacked me and persuaded me to go to bed with her?" Vegeta paced back and forth. He grabbed her by the shoulders and forced her to look at him. _I need you_.

He kissed her.

Bulma surrendered, wrapping her arms around his neck. He hadn't said he loved her, but she could see the need, and for now, that was enough.

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Review please.


	9. Chapter 9

I Don't Have the Heart

By: Lehua

Disclaimer: DBZ is not mine, so these characters are not mine.

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Chapter 9

Bulma snuggled closer to Vegeta and sighed; she stroked his tail and received a deep rumbling from his chest. He was still asleep, but she knew he was going to wake up soon; he needed to train after all. When he woke he'd be an asshole, but for now he was hers, and she enjoyed the silence and his presence.

It had been a week since the incident at the hospital. They had slept together every night since then and she was happy. Her appetite had returned and with the help of the pills she was able to keep most of her food down; she still threw up breakfast, but she was able to keep lunch and dinner down. Work had been a bitch, but she was finally catching up with everything now that she was able to sit for long periods of time. Vegeta had been less of an asshole since she'd gotten back to work, but he was still, well, himself. If given the opportunity he still felt the need to provoke her into a fight.

Vegeta began to stir. Bulma stroked his tail and he quieted.

She had been relieved that nothing had appeared in the tabloids about her pregnancy. Perhaps it was good he had 'spoken' to the doctor; she could imagine the zoo that would have waited outside the fence. Her shame had receded a bit since they had started sleeping together, but she still felt it acutely sometimes during the day, like now, just before he woke. She was still unsure of their relationship. She had thought that she was the type of woman who didn't care about having a traditional life with a traditional family; apparently she had been wrong, because she did feel ashamed for having a child out of wedlock. Vegeta didn't seem to care one way or another, and sometimes she tried to lean on his strength to get her through the rough patches. She was slowly gaining back her sense of identity.

Vegeta gathered her onto his chest and nuzzled her neck. "Woman, what are you thinking?"

Bulma settled comfortably and sighed. "Nothing."

"Liar," he said, stroking her back softly.

She said nothing.

"Okay," he said, pushing her off him and getting out of bed, "don't tell me. I have to train."

Bulma sat up, drawing the covers over her naked body. She still felt modest around him. "I was thinking of going to see a doctor today."

"Why?" he said as he put on his clothes.

She shrugged. "I'm pregnant."

Vegeta rolled his eyes.

"Earth women usually have doctors watch their health, give them advice, when they're pregnant." Bulma got up, the sheet wrapped around her body. She picked up her clothes from yesterday and headed for the door. "I'd like you to come," she said, looking at the door.

"Why?"

"You're the father."

"I know that, you know that, the doctor doesn't need to know that; why would I come to a doctors appointment for you?" he said. He stomped his feet, putting on his shoes and walked to the door.

"I'd like you there."

"Woman," he said when he got to the door. "I have to-"

"Please?"

He grunted.

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Vegeta found himself later that day in one of the woman's cars, the top down, her blue hair streaming behind her. She was talking about something he had no interest in, so he tuned her out. Training had been frustrating again, and he was irritated that he was taking time out of training to go to the doctor with her. But he knew by the trembling in her voice that whatever ground he had made with her would go crashing down if he said no. Why he even cared he didn't know; perhaps it was the child.

The woman pulled into the parking lot of a large office building. "You're doctor is in here?" he said as they got out and she capsuled the car.

"Yup."

He followed her inside and they were soon seated on the 13th floor, waiting for a nurse to call them. They were ushered into a small room where the nurse told Bulma to lie down and Vegeta to have a seat. The doctor joined them shortly.

"So, Miss Briefs, you're pregnant," the female doctor said as she came into the room. "Congratulations! Is this the father?" The doctor stuck out her hand and gave Vegeta a firm handshake.

"Thanks for seeing me, Doctor. You understand that-"

The doctor waved her to stop. "Don't worry: I won't say a thing. Besides," she said, giving Vegeta a sidelong look, "this man looks like he would rip me to pieces if I said anything."

Bulma blanched.

The doctor laughed. "So," she said, clapping her hands together, "let's have a look."

Vegeta watched as the doctor put some weird gel on the woman's stomach and then ran some contraption over the area. Both the woman and the doctor were looking at a screen and Vegeta looked closely as well. What the hell were they looking for?

"Ah, there it is," the doctor said.

Bulma smiled and reached out her hand to Vegeta. He stood up, grabbed her hand, and stared at the screen. What the hell was he looking at?

"No defining features yet, but there it is. Would you like a copy?"

Bulma nodded.

Vegeta peered at the screen, trying to figure out what it was. _Is that the baby?_ "Woman, is that-"

She nodded.

He reached out to touch the screen. _Stupid, the baby's not there!_ his mind said. He turned his attention to the woman, placing his hand on her slightly rounded stomach. His child. He felt a swelling of emotion and suppressed it.

The doctor had returned with the ultrasound and was talking to the woman about diet and exercise. He sat down again. The ultrasound had made the baby real in ways he hadn't realized it wasn't. Up until that point the baby had been an idea; now it was concrete, it had its own picture, its own life. The woman was with child and he was going to be a father.

A father. He had lost his father at a young age, and while Frieza and those bastards had been the only adults he knew growing up, he never considered them fathers; how could he when they destroyed his planet? He didn't know what a father was supposed to do, what he was supposed to be like. His own memories of his father were barely lucid, and time had made them harder and harder to recall.

He saw the woman get up and walk to the door. He followed, and didn't hear a word she said as she chattered all the way home. He closed the door softly behind him and followed her up to her room.

"Vegeta? Hello? Earth to Vegeta?" he heard her say, waving a hand in front of his face. "Aren't you going to train?"

He grunted and turned to go, but stopped. He watched her as she put on a fresh pair of clothes, humming softly, perhaps to the baby. _Could the baby hear yet? _He leaned against the doorway, watching the mother of his child.

"Vegeta? What are you doing?" she said.

He stood up straight, confused. _What was he doing?_ "I'm going to train."

She smirked. "I figured that out; why are you still here?" she said as she exited the room and walked down the stairs.

"I was thinking."

"About what?" She grabbed fruit an apple from the fridge and began to munch.

"About training."

"Wouldn't it have been better to just go train instead of thinking about it?" she said.

"You're right; I'll be in the GR." He left her in the kitchen.

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Bulma giggled. She was sitting at her desk, tinkering on a project. Vegeta hadn't heard a thing she said on the way home. At one point she had been rambling on about how much stronger Goku was, just to see his reaction, but he hadn't even batted an eye. He had been off in lala land since the ultrasound, and she was very pleased with his reaction; she hadn't expected it, but she was pleased. He had looked at her like she was a goddess, and she supposed she was—she was the goddess of his bed after all.

It was getting dark out so Bulma left her lab for the comfort of home. The house was dark; Vegeta was still in the GR; she wasn't surprised. She entered through the kitchen and flicked on the light, humming as she gathered together dinner. She heated whatever leftovers there were and made several dozen sandwiches; Vegeta was going to be hungry when he got out the GR. _I wonder if he's still going to have that stunned-faraway look in his eyes._ She giggled.

"Why are you giggling, woman?" she heard a voice whisper in her ear. Strong arms snaked around her, stroking her stomach softly. She leaned back against him.

"Feeling better?"

"Hmm, was there something wrong with me earlier?" Vegeta murmured in her ear. He nipped at her neck, drawing blood.

She hissed but didn't withdraw. "You were . . . distant."

Vegeta nipped at her again and then withdrew. She took a deep breath and turned around. He seated himself at the table and started eating; while she didn't see a smile on his face, she could tell he had one. He had been playing with her.

She took a seat and began eating. _Two could play this game_. "I don't think you heard a thing I said on the way home."

He grunted.

"I mean the things you agreed to do-"

"I agreed to do nothing."

"You grunted in all the right places, so yes, you did."

"I wasn't listening to you, woman, so whatever I may have 'agreed' to is null and void."

She pouted. "How can you call yourself a Prince if you don't keep your word?"

Vegeta growled. "What did I 'agree' to do?"

"Well, first you agreed to come with me to every doctor's appointment."

He grunted.

"Second, you agreed to come with me to Lamaze class too."

"What is that?"

"It's a class that helps you prepare for the birth."

He grunted.

"Third, you agreed to marry me."

"I agreed to no such thing!" he said, standing up.

She giggled. "You're right, but you also didn't agree to any of the other things; just thought I'd go the whole-nine-yards." She smiled at him sweetly.

"I didn't agree to any of this?" He advanced towards her.

Bulma got up, trying to keep the table between them. "Not in the car, but you just did, so now you can't go back on your word."

Vegeta tried to grab her but missed. "Woman, when I catch you-"

She shrieked and ran up the stairs. He caught her in his bedroom.

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Review please.


	10. Chapter 10

I Don't Have the Heart

By: Lehua

Disclaimer: DBZ is not mine, so these characters are not mine.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter 10

Vegeta watched the woman as she slept. Her stomach had swelled to amazing proportions, and he briefly touched it, the baby kicking its foot in response. The brat was perceptive; it knew when Vegeta was near. More than once he had felt the brat searching for him, and the woman would sometimes double-over in pain until he came along to sooth the brat. It was selfish and Vegeta hated it; it was interfering with his training.

"He doesn't do it on purpose," the woman had told him on many occasions.

"Yes it does," he had replied.

"He doesn't have any higher cognition's yet; everything is instinctual still."

Maybe so, but he still hated it. And more so, the woman refused to sleep with him now. Of course, even he could see the logic in that, but it still annoyed him and he blamed the brat.

He rolled out of bed and put on his clothes. Training was still his most pressing concern; the woman could deal with the day-to-day necessities of taking care of the brat that was still growing inside of her. He would have to leave training early though for that stupid breathing class the woman was intent on taking. "You said you'd come with me," she had whined, and he had relented.

"I am getting soft," he muttered as he walked to the GR.

Never in his life had he thought he would be living like this. A few years ago he would have laughed if someone had told him he would be both free of Frieza and live on a stupid planet filled with a weak species waiting for his mate to give birth to a son.

_When did she become my mate?_

He hadn't formal ask her or taken her—_why would he ask—_so as of now they were just sleeping with each other and she was the mother of his child. But the thought had been seeping into his mind, and now that it had slipped its bond and exposed itself, he could not suppress it anymore.

A mate. Did he need one? No, he didn't think so; he could get along just fine in life without one. Kakkarot had one and kami what a harpy that one was; he didn't know what the buffoon saw in that woman. Then again, maybe he saw nothing; it's not like Kakkarot spent any quality time with her from what his woman had told him, and it's not like the idiot had marked her. Perhaps he didn't even know what a mate was; he didn't know what a Saiyan was until recently. You would think instinct would have made him mark the harpy, but perhaps Kakkarot instincts only went as far as fighting.

When the woman crossed his mind—and she was doing so more and more everyday—she had gone from being

'the' woman to being 'his' woman about half the time now. It was taking more effort to think of her in terms of being just any woman as the delivery day drew nearer. His thoughts weren't yet interrupting his training, but they were beginning to plague him. He should be thinking about training, coming up with better ways to get stronger, but instead he was thinking about her, wondering if she was still considering him to be her mate. She had mentioned marriage once, the stupid mating ritual on this planet, and she had said it in and offhand manner, but he remembered and he was disconcerted to be thinking about it at all.

He was interrupted by the woman later in the day.

"Vegeta!" she screamed from outside the GR.

He powered down the GR and opened the door.

"What-"

He blinked. The lower half of her body was wet and she was clutching her stomach in pain.

"The baby-"

_-is coming.­_ He picked her up and carried her to the infirmary. They had decided to call the doctor to them when the baby was on the way instead of going to the hospital. His woman had been adamant about making sure no one found out, staying home when her stomach was growing, not letting anyone see her on a vid screen below her chest area, making sure she had all the supplies she would need for a new born child stocked in the infirmary.

She clung to him, her face pale and her mouth set in a grim frown. He felt her tense up as another wave of pain coursed through her body. Placing her gently on the infirmary bed, he summoned the doctor.

"Do you need anything, woman?" he said.

She reached out her hand and he took it. "Just stay here with me."

_Did she think he was going to be anywhere else?_ "Seriously, woman, after all the infernal training we had to do for the brat, do you think I'd be anywhere else?"

She smiled weakly and gripped his hand tightly as another contraction tore through her body.

The doctor arrived shortly and said that the baby was coming, but not for awhile. "She hasn't dilated enough for the baby to come yet."

"What th-"

"It means," his woman said, through clenched teeth, "that my cervix isn't big enough for the baby to pass through it yet." She went limp after the contraction was over.

He said nothing.

He watched her though the hours as she labored and waited. She screamed, she yelled, she insulted his heritage and threw things at his head, she promised he'd never touch her again, and she begged the kami to kill her before the baby did it itself. In between the contractions she would apologize and be sweet, but as the contractions increased and the time in-between grew less and less, he began to worry that she would wear out before the baby could be delivered.

"Is this normal?" he said to the doctor as she yet again found something to throw at him.

"Perfectly," the doctor replied.

He wasn't sure if he believed her, or if the doctor believed herself. There was a hesitancy in the doctor's voice, and he didn't know if it was out of general concern or if there was something specifically wrong.

"Bulma," the doctor began, "why don't we give you-"

"No drugs!" his woman screeched and promptly threw something at the doctor which barely missed her.

The doctor appeared unperturbed.

The grip his woman had on his hand didn't hurt but it was alarming how tight she could grasp him; had he been human he was sure she would have broken his hand. He wondered if she was borrowing some power from the baby as she labored.

At hour 23 she was crying hysterically and the pain was beginning to overwhelm her. Nothing he said or did could sooth her. As he dried her face with a cool towel, he growled to the doctor, "When will the brat be coming?"

The doctor checked. "Soon."

"You've been saying that for the past few hours." His ears were beginning to hurt from his woman's continual crying.

"Another inch or so-"

And his woman shrieked so suddenly that he dropped the towel and covered his ears.

"Woman-"

"It's coming!" She pushed.

The doctor coaxed her loudly when to push and rest. Vegeta watched his woman as she worked to bring the brat into the world, and he was amazed at her strength. When it came down to it she was all business and soon enough a piercing cry could be heard and the brat was born. The doctor handed the brat to his woman.

"Trunks," she said and then promptly passed out.

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Vegeta felt a hand kneaded his hair. He had fallen asleep next to his woman after she had passed out from exhaustion. Trunks slept quietly next to her in a crib.

He sat up and looked at her, her hand caressing his cheek. She glowed.

"Wakey, wakey," she said.

"You forgive me then," he said. He remembered her threat earlier about not letting him touch her ever again.

She nodded. She looked at the baby. "Did you hold him yet?"

He shook his head: no.

"Give him to me," she said.

He went over to the crib and stared down at the purple-headed infant. The brat was sleeping peacefully now, wrapped in a blue blanket and sucking its thumb. He picked it up carefully and held it to his chest. The brat nuzzled him and grabbed his shirt, settling comfortably on his chest. He looked between his woman and the brat; he could feel something begin to well up in his chest, something unexplainable and undeniable, something like the love his woman had described to him countless times, but something deeper, more basic. It was need.

She smiled and motioned for him to give the brat to her. He obeyed, placing the brat in her arms and watching them as they grew accustomed to each other. The brat opened its blue eyes and cooed at his woman. She giggled and stuck a finger at the brat. It grabbed her finger and began to suck on it. "Wow, you've got quite the grip, just like your daddy," she said.

He watched them, mother and child, and felt the loss of his own mother keenly; he couldn't even remember her face now. Frieza had come and—the androids. How could he have forgotten? He turned and left the room.

"Vegeta, where-"

But he didn't stop to listen to her, didn't stop to answer her. He wasn't going to let the android bastards take his woman and brat away.

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Bulma growled darkly to herself at Vegeta's departure. "What the hell is his problem?" she muttered. "Don't worry, baby Trunks; your daddy is always grumpy, it's not you." Trunks had fallen asleep and was peacefully grabbing her hair.

Bulma placed his back in the crib and stretched her tired limbs. The labor had been bad; she was sore everywhere, in places she didn't know she could be sore in. She hadn't thought it would be so long or so painful, and she remembered every bit of it. Next time she would use an epidural.

But it had been worth it. Her baby slept peacefully and the man of her dreams, well, he may be grumpy now but she had seen the look of utter devotion he had on his face before it closed over and he left. She wondered what had gotten his underwear in a knot, but thought better of going to see herself; she wasn't strong enough to get out of bed yet.

"Doctor," she called.

The doctor came right in as if waiting to be summoned. "Miss Briefs, you are looking much better now. Are you hungry?"

Bulma nodded and the doctor produced something for her to eat.

"The delivery went smoothly and you'll be happy to know that there is nothing wrong with your baby. You'll probably be able to be up and about in a few days."

Bulma nodded.

"Did you hire anyone to help you out until then?"

"No, but Vegeta will be around; we'll manage."

"He is a very attentive man. I've never seen a father last that long without having to take a breather."

Bulma smiled. "He's no stranger to pain and suffering."

The doctor gave her an odd look but didn't question her. "I'll be on my way then. Good luck with the baby; I'm sure everyone will be interested in him when you let everyone know he exists. You'll break a lot of hearts." The doctor squeezed her hand and left.

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Vegeta found them in the infirmary after he had trained and showered. His woman was still asleep, but the brat was awake and alert. He picked it up and stared at it, keeping it at arms length. It made grasping motions at him, and when he did nothing it began to cry. His woman woke with a start.

"Vegeta!" she said, sticking her arms out.

He handed her the baby.

"Don't worry, Daddy's ugly face won't hurt you," she cooed.

Vegeta growled. "Woman-"

"I was just joking," she said, laughing. "Who would ever think you're ugly?"

He snorted and turned away.

"Oh, come on, Vegeta. It was just a joke. I'm sorry."

"I am not angry at you for calling me ugly."

"Then why?"

_Why was he angry?_ "I am not angry."

"Well, you don't appear to be happy either. Here's your son and you're scowling just as deeply as you always do. Don't you ever take a break from being mad?"

"I am not mad."

"Okay, well, don't you ever take a break from being yourself and let yourself be happy?" she said.

He said nothing.

She sighed. "Fine, moving on. Can you get me outta here? I'm beginning to become claustrophobic."

"Where is the doctor?" He picked her up and carried her to the house.

"I told her to go."

He frowned.

"I figured we'd be fine. I should be okay in a few days."

"Woman, I need to train."

She rolled her eyes. "Can't you take a few days off? It's not everyday you have a newborn son."

He shook his head: no.

She hit him lightly as he placed her on the couch. "Come on, Vegeta, take a few days off. Spend some time with me and the Trunks."

"Woman, I need to get stronger." He went into the kitchen to make her something to eat.

"A few days won't kill you, Vegeta. You'll still be plenty strong by the time the androids get here."

He brought their dinner to the living room.

"It's just a few days. Please?" she said,

He shook his head: no.

"Is training more important than me and your son?" She was angry.

"Woman, you know-"

She held up her hand. "I know, I shouldn't have said it. Training is more important than me, but I had hoped that it wouldn't be more important the Trunks."

He watched her as she smoothed the brat's brow; the brat knew something was wrong and it was restless. It stopped moving under his woman's hand.

They ate in silence.

He wanted to spend a few days with them, but the need to get stronger, to ensure that his woman and the brat would be safe, was stronger than his need to spend time with them. He had to make her understand.

"Woman," he said later that night as they lay in bed. The brat had its own room, so they were alone. She was snuggled up against him, awake. "I need to get stronger."

"I know."

"No, you don't."

"Oh, come on, Vegeta," she said pulling away from him, "you have to get stronger to 'beat the androids and kill Kakkarot.' I've heard the speech thousands of times already." She faced her back to him.

"I need to get stronger so . . . I can protect you, and the brat," he said.

She turned back and looked at him. "What did you say?"

He pulled her toward him and settled her on his chest. It was nice to be alone with her, without the brat between them. It had been awhile. They were silent for awhile.

"When did this happen?" she said.

"This afternoon."

"Is that why you left so abruptly?"

He nodded.

She sighed. "Marry me."

He grunted.

They slept.

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Review please.


	11. Chapter 11

I Don't Have the Heart

By: Lehua

Disclaimer: DBZ is not mine, so these characters are not mine.

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Chapter 11

Vegeta refused to take any large amount of time away from training, so Bulma improvised with the wedding. She had wanted it to be a gala affair, have everyone come over, but in the end it was just her, Vegeta, Trunks, and her parents; it would have been nice to have at least Goku, but Vegeta had been adamant about not having 'Kakkarot' come, so she had given in and didn't call Goku.

She was putting on her earrings when Vegeta walked into her room. "Woman, what-"

"Vegeta!" she shrieked, running into the bathroom. "What are you doing?"

"Woman, your mother insists on me not wearing my training uniform; I need you to shut her up before I have to kill her," he growled, shaking his head to clear the ringing.

"You're not supposed to see me before the wedding," she said.

He rolled his eyes. "Why?'

"It's bad luck."

"Woman, aren't you supposed to be married before you have a brat?"

"Well-"

"So, since you already screwed up the first part, why should it matter if I see you or not?"

"It just does," she said, unable to give him a good answer.

"Your mother-"

"I left something in your closet; wear that."

She heard Vegeta walk away and came out of the bathroom. Her mother came in soon after.

"Bulma, honey, I don't think Mr. Vegeta has anything to wear," she said.

"Mom, I had something specially made for him."

"Oh, you did?" she squealed. "Then I'm sure everything will be fine. Here—let me help you with that." She took the veil from Bulma and began to arrange it on Bulma blue locks.

Bulma had chosen to wear a simple wedding dress, one layer and white. It hugged her curves, leaving little to the imagination, and she paired it with a pair of sandals and some diamond and pearl jewelry. Her mother arranged the veil artfully on her head, and then stepped back.

"You look beautiful, honey," she said, beaming. "I am so happy for you; you finally have your Prince." She gave Bulma's shoulders a little squeeze and left the room.

Bulma took a deep breath and waited.

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"This is a waste of time," Vegeta muttered as he closed the door to his room and walked to the closet. Why had he agreed? He should have insisted that they just get the documents and sign them instead of going through this useless ceremony. He could be training now, but no, she wanted the ceremony; if she couldn't have 'Goku" then she sure as hell was going to have this stupid ceremony. Vegeta flung open the closet doors and stepped back, surprised.

She had made him a replica of royal Saiyan armor. It was the traditional Saiyan armor except it had the royal Saiyan seal and had a double layer cape attached to it. He pulled it out of the closet and set it down on the bed.

When had she done this? Why hadn't she said anything to him about it? How had she known? He remembered her prodding him about his armor once, before they were sleeping together; had she planned on making him this since then?

Vegeta put on the armor and admired it in the mirror. The last time he had worn this emblem was when his father had been alive; since then he wore armor without an emblem, and a cape. His woman had done this for him, to commemorate this day. _And you were upset because you weren't training_, said a voice in his head.

There was small knock on his door. "Mr. Vegeta?" said his soon-to-be mother-in-law. "It's time. Please come down to the garden."

Vegeta took one last look in the mirror, took a deep breath, and went down to the garden.

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Bulma could feel her stomach beginning to tie in knots as she waited for the music to start. She stood with her father, just out of Vegeta's sight, shaking. Her mother had traveled down the aisle with Trunks a few moments before.

"Don't worry, dear, he's a good man," her father said.

"I know, Daddy."

He patted her hand. "Of course you do. He's a little rough under the collar, but he'll be good to you."

The opening strains of the wedding march began to play. Bulma took the first steps out and sucked in her breath when she saw Vegeta in his Saiyan uniform. _Kami, he's so handsome_. He stood straight, neither smiling nor scowling, his cape blowing gently in the wind. She could feel his eyes bore into her as she walked, and he took her by the hand gently when her father passed her on to him.

Vegeta watched his woman as she walked down the aisle, regal and graceful. Had they been on Vegetasei no one would have wondered why she was his. He wanted to devour her there, but checked himself; she would be royally pissed if he screwed up today.

The ceremony went without a hitch and soon they were back in their room, Trunks with his grandparents, alone in their house. How suddenly everything had gone from his and hers to _theirs_. He stood looking out the window, contemplating his new station in life: father and husband. He was married now, not much longer than a couple years after Frieza's death, living on the same planet as the third-class idiot, with his first-born son already in existence. Where had it all gone wrong? He shouldn't be here with this woman, on this planet, with a son; he should be out conquering the universe, using planets as his playthings. He was the mighty Saiyan Prince; how had he fallen so low?

He felt the woman come up behind him and snake her arms around his waist. "I have a gift for you," she said. She handed him a box and pulled away.

He sat down and opened the box. It was a capsule. "What is this?" he said.

"A wedding gift."

"Was I supposed to get you a gift?"

She nodded. "But don't worry about it; marrying me is enough."

"It should be," he muttered. He felt like an ass for not giving her anything. He hadn't thought the ceremony all that important, but she had proved him wrong with the armor and now, the gift.

"Don't open it in here; it won't fit," she said.

He looked at her.

"You have to open it outside." She grabbed his hand and dragged him out of the house. When she had located a large enough space, she said, "Okay, now open it."

He popped the top and out came a . . . spaceship. His eyes went large and he looked at her. "Woman-"

She came up to him, encircling his neck with her arms, kissing him lightly. "For our protection."

"Woman-"

"Shh." She placed a finger on his lips. "I know you have to train, you have to get strong, you have to beat the androids, and you have to kill 'Kakkarot;' when the GR is not enough—and it won't be—you can train in outer space. Trunks and I will wait here."

His woman had given him permission to leave, to train, to kill her best friend—well, maybe not kill him, but train hard enough to prove that he was the stronger Saiyan. She had given him her body, her mind, her heart, and a son, and he had nothing to give her in return. He was a Saiyan without a planet, without a home; he couldn't provide for her, couldn't love her the way she wanted to be loved. And yet, she loved him, gave all of herself to him. He didn't understand it.

"Why?" he said.

She smiled. "Because I love you."

"Woman, I can't-"

"I know. You don't know what love is, maybe aren't even capable of it, but I think that there is something in that Saiyan brain of yours that can recognize what love is, and I think you can reciprocate it. I don't expect flowers and poems, or anything romantic; I expect you to protect us, and provide for us should we have any needs that I can't satisfy; to be my companion for the rest of my days." She kissed him again.

He closed his eyes.

"Vegeta?" she said, concerned. "Are you okay?"

Why? Why? Why? He didn't understand. It wasn't supposed to be this way. He wasn't supposed to have this, hadn't even hoped to have this, and yet here it was, wrapped up in a weak human woman with blue hair. He had resigned himself to loneliness, knowing that he was undesirable in every possible way. Millions had died by his hand; more had been captured and made into slaves. And this woman, who knew all of this, pledged to stay with him, to love him, and all she asked in return was protection and companionship.

He felt her wipe his face and was mortified to find he was crying. "Why are you crying?" she asked.

He pushed her away, frantically wiping his face. This was the second time in how many years he was crying, this time because his woman had shown him kindness. He went into the house.

"Oh, Vegeta," she said and followed him in.

"Leave me alone, woman," he said.

"Come on, Vegeta, talk to me. Tell me what's wrong."

He went into the GR, trying to escape her, but she followed him. "Get out. I need to train."

"No."

"Woman, I respected your wishes and did the ceremony, now you have to respect mine and let me train."

"Not until you explain to me what just happened." She planted her feet firmly on the ground, her hands at her hips.

He walked to the console and began to punch in numbers. "Get out before you get flattened."

"No."

"Woman, I'm-"

"I am your wife, Vegeta. I demand to know what is wrong with you."

"You cannot demand anything of me, woman."

She stalked towards him. "Earth-to-Vegeta: we have a binding contract that says I can demand anything I want from you."

"That's not what that piece of useless paper says," he scoffed.

She laughed. "It says you're stuck with me, and I will make your life a living nightmare if you don't tell me what the hell is wrong with you." Her blue eyes flashed and Vegeta almost stepped back.

"There is nothing wrong with me."

"Yes there is. The Vegeta I know would never cry," she said, advancing towards him.

He stepped back this time. "Stay away from me."

"I will not."

"Get away."

"No."

"Woman."

"Make me."

She stood right up to him, face to face.

He grabbed her and sank his teeth into the juncture between her neck and shoulder.

"Vegeta!" she cried, but she didn't pull away.

He sucked at her blood, power surging through his body. He closed his eyes and heard her whimper, felt her body go limp and her breathing uneven. Her blood was sweet and he felt the bond forming, securing her to him and he to her for the duration of their lives. Instinct took over when she had confronted him, and now he released her when he regained some of his senses.

"Vegeta," she said. She placed a tentative hand on his bite mark. "You bit me."

He licked his lips. "You're mine."

She looked at him surprised. "Well of course I'm yours, silly; we just got married."

"No," he said, wiping his lips, the taste of her blood still in his mouth, "now you're mine; you carry my mark."

Bulma looked at him. "You're mark?" She rubbed the bite.

"Like your stupid rings," he said, holding up his hand, "except permanent."

"Will the mark go away?"

"There will be no scar, but it will be there, and anyone who has a nose will be able to tell that you're mine." He turned away from her.

He wanted to smack himself. What the hell did he just do? Well, it couldn't be undone so he'd have to live with it, and with her, for as long as she lived—because he certainly was going to live longer than she would. At first he was refusing her, then she was demanding him, and then he bit her. His instincts had been screaming at him for some time to form the bond, but he had resisted. He had deluded himself into thinking that it would be unnecessary and useless. Now she had power, and he had given it to her.

"Do I get to bite you?" she said.

He turned and looked at her. "What did you just say?"

"Well, it seems to me that if you can bite me and everyone will know I'm your's that I should be able to bite you so that everyone will know your mine," she said.

He hadn't anticipated her wanting to bite him—hadn't really anticipated anything. His rational brain seemed to have stopped working when he started sleeping with her.

He walked up to her, tilted his head to the side and closed his eyes.

Her teeth tentatively sank into his flesh, and she sucked at his blood hesitantly—at first. He was alarmed to feel her teeth sharpen and grow, and feel power drain from him as she continued to suck on his blood. She growled low in her throat when he attempted to move away from her, and he obeyed, staying where he was. She released him and stepped back, wiping her lips and grinning.

"That was . . . something else," she said. "I felt a connection-"

"The bond."

She tilted her head.

"The Saiyan bond. It's a connection at a deeper level, given in trust."

She rubbed her mark. "That's why it's on the neck, a form of submission."

He nodded.

Her eyes glowed softly and she flexed her hands. It had been disgusting and exhilarating—disgusting because she was sucking his blood, but exhilarating because of the power she felt, like she was making him a part of herself. She touched the mark on his neck and saw him tremble visibly. "It's sensitive," she said.

"Only when you touch it," he said with is eyes closed. She licked it and he felt his knees buckle; he stayed standing through sheer will. "Woman," he growled.

"Prince Vegeta," she said.

He captured her lips, clawing at her clothes. He didn't care anymore; he needed her, couldn't leave her, couldn't deny her. She drew her nails over his back and he hissed, roughly pushing her down to the floor. He entered her, her hips pushing up to meet his. As they climaxed she opened her eyes and saw his dark eyes briefly change to blue and his onyx hair highlighted in gold, and then it was gone, and he was himself again, grinning at her.

"What, woman?"

She grinned back. "Nothing."

He lay beside her, on the GR floor, and pulled her to him. He played with her hair a little, thinking about letting it all go, letting his envy of Kakkarot slide, perhaps staying here, living the rest of his days by her side. No, he couldn't let Kakkarot get away with surpassing him, but he could spend the rest of his days with her, wherever she wanted to be. While he couldn't understand most of what had happened yet, he knew he couldn't stop it anymore. He was content with that . . . for now.

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Pau (the end).

Review.


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